


When

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Castle
Genre: Don't Judge Me, F/M, I Tried, I Was So Young, My First Fanfic, Oh My God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts out as an unusual case becomes a life-changing experience for Castle and Beckett…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Is This Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of my many works that I am crossposting from fan fiction.net. I originally posted this story, my first ever fanfic, in November 2011 when I was 17. I considered heavily editing all of my stories, but decided in the end to preserve them as they were, with only a little line editing, so show my journey as a writer. Go easy on my 17-year-old self.

BEEEEEEEEEEEP!

The car screeched to a halt as the girl dashed into the street. Her long blonde hair whipped around her as she turned her head frantically, seeking a sanctuary from the cacophony of noises and the swarm of colors. The fear in her eyes shone out like twin moons from her pale, peaked face.

Moving wildly, the girl darted from side to side as she sought a way out of the maze of traffic. Her bare feet made crunching noises on the asphalt before she finally reached the park across the street. The girl collapsed onto the grass, breathing in great, heaving gasps. She looked down at her bloodstained shirt and began to tremble. It started in her hands, working its way up her arms until every part of her was shaking uncontrollably. She became another facet of New York for people to gawk at, with her nearly epileptic-scale shaking and her clothes that had so much blood on them their original color was difficult, if not impossible, to make out.

The cops who were called in got more than they bargained for when they came to pick her up. The girl was more wary than a stray cat, flinching away from their touch and eyeing them like they carried whips in their hands. By the time they got down to the precinct the cops had scratches on their faces and arms, and the girl had to be dragged down to the interrogation room. Throughout the entire experience, she had not made a sound.

When Beckett and Castle entered the 12th Precinct, coffee in hand, Captain Gates was already waiting for them. "Beckett,” she said, nodding a greeting to the detective. Castle was pointedly ignored.

"Morning sir—you called us in?" Beckett inquired, setting her jacket down on her desk chair.

"Yes, detective; an unusual case has come up—some beat cops found it this morning at a local park. Young mother called them in when she became concerned,” the captain explained as she led Beckett and Castle towards the interrogation room.

"How is it unusual, sir?" Beckett asked. Castle slurped his coffee noisily.

"We have a witness—but no body," Captain Gates said as the three entered the observation room. Beckett and Castle both leaned in to gaze through the two-way mirror. Curled up in a ball, her head between her legs and her back pressed against the wall as if she wanted to vanish into it, the frail girl looked more like an abused animal than a human being.

"Is that blood in her hair?" Castle asked.

"Yes. Examiners identified blood from at least three different people on her clothing. All three matched missing persons reports from the last year," Gates informed them. "The girl was found running blindly through a street when she collapsed in the park. Eyewitness reports say she acted like she'd never seen a car before. Nearly got hit a couple of times."

"The strange thing is," Gates continued, "The girl hasn't made a sound. Not one sound—grunt, sigh, moan, growl, or anything else. She appears capable of understanding, but she hasn't spoken."

"So we have a possible mute with blood from three potential victims on her clothing, all from missing persons files, and no bodies?" Beckett asked.

"Yes. Make me proud, detective," Gates said on her way out.

"How does she manage to make that sound like a threat?" Castle asked once the door had closed.

Beckett plucked the coffee from his hand. "Hey!" Castle protested.

She downed it in one gulp. "Sorry Castle," she said with an unapologetic grin. "I think I'm going to need this."

They entered the interrogation room. Beckett approached the girl slowly, while Castle hovered near the door. He sensed the fear emanating from her, and decided that she would most likely react better to a woman.

Beckett felt like she was approaching a wild animal. The girl kept her head down, trembling slightly, but Beckett could tell she sensed her presence. When Beckett was immediately in front of the girl, she crouched down so that they were at eye level. The girl raised her head just enough so that her eyes could peep out and gaze at Beckett. The girl seemed to be studying her, almost… undressing her. Not in a sexual way, but like she was trying to peel away Beckett's skin and muscles until she saw her soul. It would have made Beckett uncomfortable, but the fear and gentleness in the girl's eyes made her pause.

Finally, Beckett felt she could speak. "Hi," she said gently. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett."

The girl said nothing and didn't move, but her eyes glowed with recognition.

"What's your name?" Beckett asked, still talking soothingly.

The girl's entire body froze, and the trembling started again. She shook her head once, a tiny spasm.

"You don't know what your name is?"

No response.

"You can't tell me what your name is?"

The girl gave a tiny, trembling nod. Beckett felt the corners of her mouth tugging into a frown, but she took a deep breath and maintained her composure. "That's okay," she said. "Why can't you tell me?"

The girl seemed to think about this for a moment. Then a shaking hand came out and pointed at Beckett's badge hanging from the chain on her neck.

"It's because I'm a member of the police?" Beckett asked. The girl gave another jerky nod.

Beckett turned to Castle, who shrugged. "Perhaps whoever committed the murders told her something bad would happen if she went to the police," Castle hazarded.

The girl pointed at Beckett's eyes. "What?" Beckett asked.

The girl pointed at Beckett's eyes again, then put a hand over her heart and smiled. Her smile looked almost like a grimace, as if her face was out of practice. "Something about my face?" Beckett guessed.

"Do it again." Castle said, watching the girl carefully. The girl pointed at Beckett's eyes, then put her on her heart, and smiled. "She thinks your eyes are kind." Castle guessed.

The girl gave a slightly more enthusiastic nod. She turned to Castle and gave him the same searching look she had Beckett. Castle raised his eyebrows and glanced over at his partner, who shrugged.

Beckett turned back to the girl. "You can't be very comfortable," she said kindly.

The girl blinked, then shook her head. She pointed up at the light on the ceiling. "It's too bright in here," Castle translated. The girl looked over at him, her eyes shining with gratitude.

Beckett sighed. "Guys, can we dim the lights a little?"

On the other side of the two-way mirror, Ryan obligingly lowered the lights. The girl looked around, blinking slowly. Tentatively, still trembling a little, she unraveled herself from the tight ball she'd been in.

Stretching out her legs, Castle and Beckett could see for the first time what she was wearing. She wore ragged jean shorts and a tank top, both of which were coated in blood. Dried blood that looked like it had been there for years and blood that looked much fresher… it was in her hair, too. And under her nails. Her skin and hair looked like they hadn't been washed in months, and there were a few bruises on her arms and legs. The girl continued to get up excruciatingly slowly. She seemed almost afraid to move, and there was an odd expression on her face. It seemed oddly familiar to Castle, although at first he couldn't place it. It wasn't until the girl had stood up on shaky legs that he realized where he'd seen that expression before. The girl looked just like Alexis when she was little and had the flu, doing her best not to vomit.

"Uh, Beckett? I think we might want to get her a bucket," he said, gesturing.

Beckett watched the girl's face. Her throat was tight and strained, and her jaw was clenched. Her handles continued to tremble, and as she settled herself into the chair she stared at the table with an intensity that was frightening.

"Are you okay? Do you need some water?" Beckett asked. The girl shook her head.

"Beckett, I think she might want some new clothes," Castle said.

"The evidence guys couldn't get near her to take them off. They've all got scratches."

The girl was plucking at her clothing with one hand, while the other was rubbing the veins in her neck. Beckett shot Castle a look and looked into the girl's eyes. "Do you want some new clothes?" Beckett asked.

The girl looked up, her eyes showing the battle within as gratitude and fear fought for dominance. After a minute, she gave a jerky nod.

Beckett took a deep breath. "Okay. Here's the deal; you tell us your name, and we'll get you some new clothes. We'll let you change in private."

The girl thought for a minute. "If you can't talk, we can get you a paper and pencil," Castle said quickly.

The girl frowned, her forehead puckering. She shook her head. She licked her lips and opened her mouth, clearing her throat a couple of times. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet that both detective and writer had to strain to catch the words. "Rue," she whispered. "My name Rue."

Beckett nodded. "Do you have a last name?"

The girl looked at Beckett like she'd spoken in Farsi. "Last?" She asked.

Castle and Beckett exchanged a look. As always, unspoken words zinged between them like an electrical charge as they read each other's thoughts.

_She_ _doesn't_ _know_ _what_ _a_ _last_ _name_ _is?_

_Maybe_ _she_ _just_ _forgot._

_There_ _were_ _no_ _signs_ _of_ _a_ _concussion_ _when_ _they_ _examined_   _her._

_They didn't get to examine much, Kate; she wasn't exactly compliant._

Beckett hated it when he called her Kate in his mind. Or maybe that was just her mind, having him call her that privately. Either way, it made her skin tingle in a strange way. The girl looked back and forth at them, and for some reason both had the strange feeling that the girl knew exactly what was going on.

Then she held up a piece of her shirt and pointed at it. "Clothes?" The girl asked.

Beckett sighed and headed off to get the girl a change of clothing.

* * *

 

Having been settled comfortably into a new set of clothing, Rue sat quietly in the chair at the table, staring at her fingernails. They were rather long and unkempt, and she seemed to be picking them off in an attempt to shorten them. From their position on the other side of the two-way mirror, Beckett and Castle observed her.

"She's hiding something," Beckett pronounced.

"Of course she is," Castle said in the voice that everyone knew announced a speech. "The question is only what she is hiding. Is she the murder? Is she, perhaps, mentally unbalanced? Does she know the murder? Or, maybe, she is faking all of this in an attempt to delay us and give the murder time to escape! Say, a beloved older brother, a role model, or her partner in crime, or…"

"Castle, all we have right now is conjecture, but that does not mean that your conjecture is appreciated." Beckett said. She had to fight to keep the smile off of her face. She succeeded, but he could still hear it in her voice. Castle sent her a look and Beckett knew that if he was five, he'd have stuck his tongue out at her.

"So," Castle said, "Blood that was identified to have been from three missing girls, as well as blood from several other individuals, but not enough to secure an ID. The name on the inside band of the jeans was from yet another victim, this one a male who vanished three years ago." He turned to Beckett. "How on earth did this girl get all of that on her?"

Beckett frowned. "I don't know, and that's why we need to get in there and get some answers."

Despite all the coffee she'd drank, Beckett was still cold so she put her red jacket from that morning back on.

The effect when she entered the interrogation room was immediate, unexpected, and unsettling. Rue jumped up and started to back away from Beckett, her mouth open in a silent scream. The lack of sound was starting to unsettle Beckett. Rue was trembling again, rubbing the inside of her arms along her arteries and staring at Beckett like she had grown an extra eye.

"Beckett, your jacket—she's scared of your jacket," Castle said. Beckett didn't even have time to argue before he'd grabbed her shoulders and shucked the jacket off of her, exiting the room with it.

The minute the door closed, Rue began to calm down. She stopped trembling and closed her mouth, although it took a minute for her to stop rubbing her arms.

"I'm sorry," Beckett said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. Rue just looked so scared and forlorn, looking at Beckett like she'd betrayed her or something. "Do you not like jackets?"

Rue looked at Beckett as though she couldn't understand the word. "Jacket?" She repeated, slowly.

Beckett's veins slowly filled with ice. Rue didn't understand the word. She cleared her throat. "What I was wearing earlier."

Rue processed this. Beckett could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she worked it out. Finally, Rue shook her head vehemently. She opened her mouth, then closed it, gave a twitching look around the room.

"It's okay; you can talk," Beckett assured her. She sat down at the table and gestured for Rue to sit across from her. Rue complied. "No jacket," she said, tasting the new word. "Color."

"You're scared of the color red?" Castle asked incredulously. Beckett jumped. She hadn't realized he'd come back into the room.

Rue thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Color red?" She asked.

"Yes. The jacket was red." Castle said.

Rue processed this before speaking. "Red color…" She pointed to her arm.

Beckett didn't get it, but Castle seemed to understand. "You're pointing to your veins. Red is the color of blood!" He was excited he'd figured it out. Rue jumped at the word, shaking a little. "Sorry, sorry." Castle apologized.

Beckett decided it was time to get down to business. "Rue," She said, getting the girl's attention. "How did you get those clothes?"

Rue shook her head empathetically. Castle noticed that before she spoke, her eyes darted around wildly—namely, towards the corners of the ceiling, the mirror, and various points in the wall. "No talk," she whispered.

"You can talk," Beckett replied.

Rue shook her head again, pointing at the mirror. Castle and Beckett turned and looked at it. "Watching," Rue whispered hoarsely. She started to tremble again and back away.

"I suppose we can add catoptrophobia to the list…" Castle said.

Beckett looked at him. "Fear of mirrors," Castle explained.

"Watching—he's watching. Watching!" Rue's trembling was more violent now, and she was rubbing her arms again. The timbre of her voice had changed and it was no longer simply fearful; it now contained a note of warning.

"Beckett… she's trying to warn us," Castle realized.

Beckett gave him her incredulous look again, but Castle insisted. "I'm serious, Beckett. She thinks we're in danger."

Beckett looked over at Rue. The girl was rubbing her arms and neck and backing slowly away from the two-way mirror. Her eyes kept darting over at Beckett, as if urging her on. "No safe… no safe… must run, must run!" Rue was still whispering, but her voice contained more energy and urgency than if she'd screamed.

Beckett wasn't entirely sure why she made the decision. Perhaps it was the crazed fear that possessed Rue. Maybe it was her innate need to nurture. Or, maybe, it was because some part of her remembered what it was like to feel that scared, to want someone to make it all go away. Gently but firmly, Beckett crossed over to Rue and took her by the hand. She took the girl out of the interrogation room and into the viewing room, where Ryan and Esposito looked up in surprise.

"Look," Beckett said, gesturing to the mirror. Rue's eyes went wide as she looked into the interrogation room.

"See?" Beckett asked. "It's where we watch the bad guys. There's no one here who can hurt you."

Rue looked at the mirror, then at Beckett. She pointed at Beckett's eyes again. "Kind eyes," she whispered. "Trust kind eyes."

Beckett was startled. Ryan and Esposito pretended they weren't paying attention.

"What?" Beckett asked.

"Trust eyes," Rue explained patiently. "Eyes no lie."

Castle entered the room. Beckett turned to him. "We're done for the day. We'll work on her more tomorrow."

Castle didn't dare argue with Beckett when she used that tone.

* * *

 

Beckett sat at her desk, reviewing the evidence they had so far. It wasn't a lot. "Castle, if we break this case, we could solve several cold cases," she said in exasperation. "Why won't she talk to us?"

Castle was fiddling with something on his phone. After a moment, he pressed a button with a flourish and the screech of violins filled the precinct.

" _Psycho_ , Castle?" Beckett asked, amused.

"Think about it," Castle said. "She's scared of blood, the color red, mirrors, loud noises and bright light… she's covered in blood from several missing persons cases… she's in cahoots with a serial killer!"

Beckett rolled her eyes. "Castle, there has to be a more logical explanation than that. And living with a serial killer doesn't explain why she won't talk or why she can't seem to see very well in bright light… or why she didn't know what a car was…" She tapped her fingers on the table in frustration. "This case is bugging me, and I have to find out the answer."

Castle's phone buzzed discreetly. He took a look at it and sighed. "Well, you know I'd love to stay and see how many times I can get you to roll your eyes, but it's poker night and I have to get back to set up."

Beckett had already turned back to the paperwork and merely nodded absently. "Be sure to call me if you get any bright ideas."

"Always," Castle assured her as he headed towards the elevator.


	2. Get Her to Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Rue's panic attacks and behavior on my own when I have a panic attack, so if I am inaccurate in any way, I apologize.

Castle was alone in the precinct, muttering to himself. He hated doing paperwork, but every once in a while his conscience made an appearance and insisted he do his share. So here he was, late at night, when he could have been home indulging in ice cream and a film…

A sound behind him caused him to turn around. He nearly fell out of his chair at seeing Beckett. But… this couldn't be Beckett. Clearly, it was an alien clone or an alternate universe version or some kind of pod person because Beckett would never, ever, be caught dead in the precinct--or anywhere, for that matter--in nothing but a corset, panties and thigh-high boots.

Castle's mouth was unusually dry, and he swallowed in a futile attempt to moisten it. "Uh… Beckett? Where did you…"

"I changed in the locker room," she said, walking towards him. "I thought… since it was just the two of us…"

She was climbing onto his lap-- _Beckett was climbing onto his lap!_  She smelled so good it made his head spin, her soft hair was falling all over her bare shoulders, her cleavage was tantalizingly close and did he mention that  _Beckett was in his lap!_

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this." Kate's breath was hot in his ear. Her tongue when she swirled it in his earlobe was even hotter.

Castle moaned, but she put a finger to his lips. "Keep it quiet, Writer Boy," she whispered. "We can't let anyone hear us."

That was when she kissed him, her tongue engaging his in a heated dance of pleasure that made him, uh, snap to attention.

Castle wasn't entirely sure how his shirt came off, just as he wasn't entirely sure when "Beckett" had become "Kate" in his mind. All he knew was one hand was in her luxurious hair while the other cupped her firm ass, and that, plus the things she was doing to his body, pretty much convinced him that he was in some form of heaven.

It took some work, but he managed to undo her corset while she worked on his pants. She pressed herself to him, bringing her chest up to his face, and he wasted no time in getting to work on her exquisite breasts. He kissed his way around her nipples before finally taking one in his mouth, sucking it and gently nibbling at her soft skin. Her moans and whimpers as he drove her crazy only served to heighten his arousal.

"Tell me what you want, Kate," he whispered, kissing his way up her neck.

"You… only you…" she whispered hoarsely.

_Brrriiing…_

She was positioning herself…

_Brrriiing…_

Was that a phone ringing?

_Brrriiing…_

Castle awoke with a start. He was in his bed, the early morning light was peeping through the curtains, and his cell phone on the nightstand was ringing its little electronic chip out.

Fumbling as he tried to think about anything other than Kate Beckett, he answered the phone without even looking at the caller ID.

"Castle," he announced a little blearily.

"I'm sorry, Castle; did I wake you?" A sultry voice teased through the phone.

Shit. Beckett.

"What? Uh, no, no I was just… getting ready." Throwing the covers off, Castle jumped out of bed and began to hurriedly get dressed.

"Uh-huh. Sure," Beckett said, unconvinced. "When are you going to start waking up before nine?"

Various answers presented themselves to Castle, among them  _when you wake me up with a kiss and not a phone call_  and  _AM or PM?_  Knowing Beckett would kill him for voicing any of his possible answers, Castle chose to keep silent.

"I need you…"

Very much the wrong choice of words when Castle was trying desperately  _not_  to think about his latest erotic Beckett dream…

"…to come down to the precinct. I want to get started on Rue as soon as possible. You seem to be able to interpret her gestures so I want you with me when I start the questioning," Beckett explained.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be there. Just let me finish, uh, shaving," Castle lied as he hastily tried to tie his shoes.

"Castle, how long have I known you?"

"Four years," Castle answered promptly. He barely stopped himself from adding how many months and days.

"Exactly. Tell me, Castle, am I a good detective?" Beckett asked.

"Yes," he had a feeling he knew where this was leading.

"Then how exactly do you think you can fool me into believing that you've been up and leisurely getting ready for hours when we both know that I woke you up just now and you're trying to tie your shoes with one hand?"

"Hey, I take offense at that! I'll have you know I use both hands."

There was a very, very awkward pause. At least, it was awkward for Castle. He cleared his throat.

"Rue, interrogation, hand signals, got it. I'll be at the precinct in just a minute." Hanging up, he finished tying his shoes, grabbed a jacket and was out the door with a kiss on the cheek for Alexis and a "Richard, for heaven's sake remember a scarf" from his mother.

When Castle strode into the precinct, holding a coffee in each hand and looking like his usual smug self, something in Beckett's chest did a kind of twisting flip-flop. She'd learned to ignore the butterflies in her stomach upon seeing him every morning, but this new sensation had only sprung up recently, and she'd yet to find a way to properly squelch it.

"So, off to try and question Silent Bob again?" Castle asked.

"Yes. I'm thinking we might try a slower tactic--earning her trust before delving into the hard questions. She might be more willing to help us then," Beckett explained as they made their way to the interrogation room.

Something appeared to be tugging at Castle, as his blue eyes--eyes that never failed to draw Beckett in--had that hard look about them and his forehead was creased slightly.

"Spill it, Castle," she instructed, knowing it would only be a matter of time before it burst out of him.

"It's just… something that came to me…" Castle said slowly.

"What is it?"

"We can't let anyone hear us," Castle said. It sounded almost like he was quoting something he'd heard.

Beckett frowned. "What?"

"Yesterday, when Rue was whispering… she's never made a sound above a whisper. She not only knew that was a two-way mirror, but she was convinced that someone was watching us through it--someone dangerous. And every time she speaks, she cringes like she's going to be hit. What if, where she comes from, she associates sound with pain? What if she doesn't make any noise because she's afraid of being seen by someone?" Castle said.

Beckett had to consider his observations. They definitely made sense--but Beckett still couldn't see where this was going.

Castle was on a roll now. "Now, let's think about what Rue's environment must be like for her to behave like this. It has to be dark--not only did the bright light scare her, but it hurt her eyes. Somewhere where there's little or no conversation, someplace where she's never learned to speak. Have you noticed she doesn't use small words? It's like she's speaking a foreign language. It also needs to be someplace where the color red is associated with something bad--most likely blood, because she also has a fear of blood--and someplace where she is not allowed to talk to policemen. Do you remember, she pointed at your badge and indicated she couldn't talk to you because of it?"

Beckett thought about it. "Those are all great observations Castle, but that still leaves us with the fact that we don't know where she's from."

"Don't you get it?" Castle asked, his usual eagerness overcoming him. "A dark place, filled with blood, no talking, people watching you, sound is associated with pain…"

She was beginning to see where Castle was going with this, but she didn't like it. "Castle, if you're suggesting that–"

She was cut short by Castle holding up his phone and showing her a clip of a horror movie he'd found on YouTube. It showed a darkened room that appeared to be underground. The room was absolutely filthy, with dried blood and things best left unnoticed everywhere. A girl was being tortured and was screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Castle, turn that off," Beckett said, annoyed.

"Don't you see? This is where Rue is from."

"She's from an Eli Roth film? Castle, those things don't exist in real life. It's just torture porn."

"I bet that if I show this to Rue, we'll get a reaction."

"Yeah; a confused reaction as she begins to doubt your sanity," Beckett replied as she opened the door to the interrogation room.

"That was never in any doubt," Castle said, wounded.

"You're right," Beckett conceded. "You are definitely insane."

They entered the interrogation room, where Rue was seated at the table. She was staring at the table but her eyes would occasionally flick up towards the two-way mirror. She was very pale and sweaty, and her eyes were not only wide but had a strange glassy quality to them. It was clear that she was scared, and trying desperately not to show it.

Before Beckett could stop him, Castle strode up to Rue and placed his phone on the table. Rue looked at it curiously, as if she'd never seen something like that before. After a moment, she pointed at it and looked at Castle.

"It's called a phone," Castle explained.

Rue's look of confusion did not diminish. She did, however, cock her head a little and try out the word. "Phone," she said slowly, savoring the word like it was a new kind of dessert.

Castle nodded. "Good. Can you look at the phone? Can you watch this?"

Rue looked at Castle with an expression on her face that Beckett knew well--she herself had made that same expression too many times to count. It was the "how stupid do you think I am" face.

Pointedly, Rue turned and fixed her eyes on the phone, gazing at it like it was the most fascinating thing on the planet. Castle got the point.

"For a silent, half-feral girl with no sense of hygiene and a laundry list of phobias, you certainly have a sense of humor," Castle said.

Rue ignored him with a fixedly blank expression that unsettled Beckett. She suddenly had the impression that Rue was very, very good at ignoring unpleasant things.

"Okay…" Castle said slowly. "Let's just skip to the main event."

He pressed the 'play' button on the phone screen.

As with the jacket, the effect was instantaneous and unnerving. Rue jumped out of the chair like it was made of roasting metal, knocking it over in the process. She scurried backwards until she was backed into a corner, trembling uncontrollably and rubbing her arms and neck erratically. Her eyes were wide and she was so pale Beckett worried the girl might pass out.

"It's okay, it's not real; it's okay," Beckett said, trying to reassure her.

Castle quickly hit the stop button and turned off his phone, but Rue continued to stare at it like it was a rabid dog from Hell.

"Thanks Castle; now she'll be afraid of phones too," Beckett said.

"At least I was right," Castle shot back.

Rue looked wildly from the phone to Beckett, then back to the phone.

"It's all going to be okay, Rue. It won't hurt you," Beckett said soothingly.

With a speed and intensity that startled both Castle and Beckett, Rue launched herself across the room and into Beckett, where she clutched at her clothing and buried her face in her chest. Beckett, taken aback, looked up at Castle for tips. Castle mimed holding someone and patting their head.

Beckett rolled her eyes, but put her arms around Rue. "It's okay, Rue. It's not going to hurt you. I won't let anything hurt you."

"Again?" Rue asked, her voice muffled from her face being buried in Beckett's chest, shirt, and sweater.

Beckett looked up at Castle.

_What does she mean by 'again'?_

_I suppose she's been hurt before, and wants your promise that it won't happen again?_

_Castle… who is this girl?_

Castle didn't have an answer.

Beckett looked down at Rue, who was still clinging to Beckett like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. "It's just a machine, Rue. The phone can't hurt you--it's a machine."

Rue stiffened, and for a moment Beckett worried she'd set off another phobia. Then Rue looked up into her face, her eyes glowing with recognition.

"Machine?" She asked. "Phone just machine?"

Beckett nodded.

Rue looked relieved. "I once scared machines--then found only do what person make them. No have power unless person make they--them." The last part sounded like Rue was correcting her grammar.

"Exactly. The phone is just a machine," Beckett said.

"Just a machine. The phone is just a machine," Rue said, copying Beckett.

"Where did you learn to talk?" Castle asked.

Rue turned and looked at him, and did a twitch-turn of her head as she tried to stop herself from looking around the room. When she spoke, her voice, which had been at a normal volume, went back to a barely-discernable whisper.

"Kale teach--taught." Rue explained. "Kale talk, me--I–-repeat."

Beckett noticed that Rue was having trouble with possessive nouns and past- vs. present-tense, both of which were common among young children just learning to speak and adults or teens learning a new language. Clearly, this "Kale" had not come along until much later in Rue's life.

"Rue, do you know a foreign language?" Beckett asked.

Rue turned back to Beckett, confusion evident on her face. "Do you know a foreign language?" She said, slowly. Although she might not understand what was being said, she could certainly mimic with startling accuracy.

"Do you know a different kind of speaking?" Castle said slowly.

Rue processed this, the thoughts practically whirring behind her large eyes. "No," she announced finally. "Only this; only little Kale teach."

Beckett nodded. "Okay--so who was this Kale?"

Rue's face crumpled, and she gave one of her arms a slight rub. "Kale red," she whispered. "Kale red, now. Like others. Red, red, all red… torn and torn and torn and ripped and red…"

Castle and Beckett's eyes met in understanding. Red meant blood. Blood + torn + ripped = word that rhymes with 'red' and had to do with long black cars and memorials.

Despite her discomfort and the fact that she didn't want to offend or scare Rue, Beckett was in full interrogation mode now, and she pressed onward.

"When did Kale become red?" She asked, guiding Rue back to the chair and sitting across from her. She felt, rather than saw, Castle sit next to her--his warmth enveloped her as surely as if he'd wrapped his arms around her. She tried her best to ignore it.

Rue thought for a moment, and then finally looked up at Beckett with defeat in her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "You can't tell time here. There are no clocks," she said, and Beckett instinctively knew that Rue was parroting something she'd heard someone say--most likely this Kale person.

Meanwhile, something appeared to be tugging at Castle again; his eyes flashed blue fire and he sat back a little in his chair. Beckett watched him and saw the minute things clicked for him--his entire face settled and his eyes became cool, clear pools of azure. She could almost hear the 'click' as things slid into place in his brain.

"Kale Flenderson," he announced to Beckett. She quirked her eyebrow in a way that she knew drove him nuts. "Kale Flenderson? She was one of the missing girls whose blood was found on the clothing--she had the largest amount of blood on the t-shirt, if I recall."

Beckett nodded, memory kicking in. "I think I have her file here…" She rifled through the papers in the file on the table. She drew out a piece of paper with a picture on it, and took a moment to study the girl on there.

Kale Flenderson had a petite structure and high, wide cheekbones, with a thin mouth and ash blonde hair. But despite her delicate appearance, her pale gray-green eyes flashed fire. Beckett knew that this girl was not only capable of handling anything that came her way--including a phobia-ridden feral mute--but would put up a hell of a fight. She just seemed to have that inner strength, that backbone of steel that no amount of lace and silk trimmings could hide.

Beckett laid the paper down on the table and pushed it towards Rue with more gentleness then she usually did. Rue's eyes widened even more, if that was possible, and she stared in shock at the picture. She sat like that, staring in amazement, before speaking.

"That… Kale…" she said slowly, ponderingly, "But, how get, got, get, Kale face on paper?"

"It's called a picture," Castle explained. "Remind me to bring in a camera and I'll show you--no, wait, I have one on my phone! Even better!"

Beckett stopped him before he could pull out his phone. She focused on Rue's face. "This is your Kale, Rue? Is this the one who taught you how to speak?"

Rue nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, this Kale. This my Kale."

"I see. How did you meet Kale?"

Rue's eyes shone in that strange way again, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "She sheep."

"What?" Beckett and Castle said in chorus.

"Like sheep led to slaughter," Rue recited. Her voice dropped a pitch as she imitated whoever had originally spoken the phrase.

"You mean she was another victim?" Beckett asked.

Rue digested the words before nodding. "But Kale different. Kale strong. Not here," Rue indicated her arms, "But here." She pointed at her chest.

Just as Beckett had thought. Kale had inner strength.

"You say that Kale was strong on the inside--how did she act strong?" Beckett asked. "Did she fight back?"

While Beckett wasn't yet ready to admit it to Castle, his theory had pretty much been proven to be correct. Rue's phobias, her reaction to the video, the way she spoke about things… it was quickly adding up in a way that Beckett didn't like. It was just too Hollywood, too bizarre, too… unsettling. At least the Triple Killer hadn't had a lair filled with complicated torture machines.

Rue shook her head. "No fight. Kale quiet--but she no cry. No scream, no cry, no beg. She stand front friend, say no touch. Say it wrong. No yell, no hit, no tough face. Just stand front friend, say no touch." The admiration in Rue's voice was clear.

Beckett felt the familiar prick inside, and swallowed. This was why she became a detective, why she'd joined the force; to give people like Kale a voice. To ensure that the strength inside, the sacrifice, the life they'd been forced to relinquish, hadn't been in vain.

"You must have really admired her," Beckett said gently. "She must have been a very good person."

Rue nodded. "Good; yes, Kale good. Kale strong, Kale good, Kale have kind eyes…" Rue was near tears.

Beckett leaned forward a little and placed her hand over Rue's. Rue looked up into Beckett's eyes, and the pain and weary terror Beckett saw there was more than any human being should have to carry. She swallowed again, determined to find who did this to Kale and Rue and make them pay.

"You want Kale to have died in vain? You want her death to be for nothing?" Beckett asked.

Rue shook her head vehemently.

"Then help us," Beckett said. "Help us find who did this. Tell us where this person is. And I promise you, Rue, we will make them pay. We will stop them from doing this again, and we will make them pay for what they did to Kale and the others."

A couple of tears spilled over and traced a wet path down Rue's thin cheeks. She nodded, and her voice was hoarse with emotion when she spoke.

"I talk."


	3. Left Unsaid

Rue fiddled with her fingers, trying to pick off the long ends of her nails. She struggled to find the words to describe her life. Finally, she decided on the bare facts.

"I don't know age. I don't know mother. I don't know father. Live dark place--house, big house," she began, slowly. She didn't say what it was like to live without those things, because you don't miss what you never knew about. She didn't say that it was a struggle to comprehend those ideas, and try to figure out if she'd once had them or known about them and had simply forgotten them.

"Hide much, many," Rue said, trying to figure out the right word. "Hide so no find. Watch from shadows. Watch people scream. Watch people go red."

She didn't say that she hid to avoid being hit, or so that she wouldn't be made to help. She didn't say what the screams did to her, how they filled her and coiled around her chest and squeezed, making her throat close up and her vision swim and her very bones shiver as the screams crawled all over her skin. She didn't say how the red splattered the walls and the stench filled her nose, her lungs, and settled on her skin and clothes like invisible dust.

She told Beckett about how she didn't know how the teens and young adults--and, on occasion, middle-aged individuals--got into the house. She'd only ever been in the basement and a few other dark rooms. She didn't tell her about how she had to steal clothes from the dead bodies, or how she closed their eyes and folded their arms so they looked peaceful. She didn't tell her how she'd slept on the floor, and that the bed in the holding cell of the precinct was amazingly comfortable.

She told her how the victims would be kept alive for a while, made to scream, until one day they'd be made to scream the loudest and then fall silent. She didn't tell her how when they died, they often gave this little gurgling noise in their throats that made her want to vomit, or how the others still alive would cling to each other and sob. She didn't tell her how once or twice they'd begged her to help them, not understanding that she couldn't help them because she didn't know how.

Rue told Beckett about Kale. How Kale was the first to realize that Rue was a human being. She was the first to try and talk to her, to understand her. Kale realized how smart Rue was--she saw how Rue had picked up a little bit of English from the victims. She taught Rue how to speak. Rue didn't tell Beckett how Kale had ended up teaching her about other things; about love, and friendship, and strength.

She told Beckett how when Kale's turn had come, she had gone quietly. She hadn't fussed or begged, simply looked at her murderer and let him see the fire in her eyes. Rue told Beckett how she'd leapt out of the shadows, clinging to Kale and screaming. She told Beckett how she'd been hit so hard her head had snapped to the side and she'd seen sparkling dots in front of her eyes. She'd fallen against the wall and by the time her vision had cleared, Kale was gone.

Rue told about how she never heard Kale scream, not once, and how angry it had made her torturer. She told about how when Kale's eyes had dulled and her body was covered in rivers of red, Rue had run over to her, pushing past, and held her, sobbing while she watched the light die in her eyes.

She didn't talk about how she'd buried her face into Kale's chest, inhaling her scent and imprinting it in her memory so that she would never, ever forget any tiny piece of Kale. She didn't talk about how she'd held Kale so tightly that she could feel as the warmth left the body, bit by bit.

Rue talked about how she'd nearly been hit again, but she'd dodged and ran. Full of rage, full of pain, and full of an overwhelming grief that seemed to engulf her entire being, she'd fled. Out of the room, through the nearest door, up a flight of stairs, twisting and turning and running, until she'd suddenly burst through onto the street.

She didn't say how she'd never been so scared in her life, and how she felt like her heart was just going to give out from the strain of running and the crushing fear. She didn't talk about how stepping into the strange, bright world of whizzing things that made roaring noises, the honking, the yelling and all the people… it had seemed like a whole new kind of nightmare.

And yet, Rue had the feeling that despite all the things she'd left unsaid… the two people across from her somehow knew anyway. And somehow, they understood.

* * *

 

Beckett didn't tell Rue how she understood her fear. She didn't tell her how she felt her pain, and how she was going to push herself to the limit and raise hell to ensure that the monster that did this was brought to justice. Beckett simply did not share her feelings like that.

Like with Castle. Beckett didn't tell him how valuable he was to her. She could ask him for something, and he'd get it. She could tell him to do something, and he'd do it. She could lean on him for support, and he would be her rock.

She didn't tell him how close she felt to him. She could tell him anything, and he would listen and understand. He would take the words she said, but he would also see the true emotion behind them. He would never judge her. She didn't talk about how safe she felt with him, and how just being near him made her pulse race. She didn't talk about how her breath caught in her throat when she saw him walk into the precinct, or how sometimes, when their eyes met, the things she saw in his eyes made her knees go weak and her stomach melt into mush.

She didn't say how she didn't want to lose him, that she was terrified that if she brought him too close, if she let him past her armor, something would happen and he'd be gone. She didn't say that the day the Triple Killer held him hostage and the day he was in the bank with those robbers were two nightmares that haunted her at night.

She never said how when she wasn't having those nightmares, she was having dreams; dreams where he was on her, under her, in her, his hands and his mouth touching every part of her. In her bed, on her sofa, in his apartment, on her desk at the precinct, in the shower at the precinct… she didn't say how when she woke up from those dreams, she was wet and trembling and sometimes she even woke herself up because she was moaning his name.

She especially didn't tell him that she knew that he loved her.

She didn't tell him that she thought she might love him back.

* * *

 

Castle could almost feel Beckett's empathy for Rue. She was practically radiating understanding and righteous fury. He loved it when she was like that. This was why Beckett had become a cop: to find things like this and stop it with a vengeance.

He could tell that Rue left a lot of things unsaid. He understood. There were things that he should probably say but never did. Most of those things had to do with Beckett.

Castle knew he was a coward. If he'd had one iota of courage or strength, he would have come right out and told Beckett that he loved her a long time ago. He would have told her when she'd woken up in the hospital after she'd been shot, and he would have told Josh to go to Hell while he was at it, too.

But he didn't. And for that, he was a coward.

He knew she needed time. He knew that a part of her--a large part of her--would never rest, never be happy, until her mother's murder was finally brought to justice. Especially as this person most likely had a laundry list of other crimes. The smart thing to do would be just what he was doing; waiting until she was ready. Waiting until she made peace with the past so that she could move forward into the future--hopefully, with him.

It was the smart thing, but it wasn't what he wanted.

He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her how she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life; that every feature of hers, from her soft, luxurious hair to her quick, firm hands, was more beautiful and amazing than any other woman's on the planet. He wanted to tell her how he could sit at his desk at the precinct all day and watch her work, because she was just so damn adorable and breathtaking when she was thinking.

He wanted to say how watching her work a case was amazing. Watching her brain work, the way she hunted criminals with such a single-minded determination, the strength and resolve she showed. The fire in her eyes when she was on the scent, the spark when she had a revelation, the warm glow when a case was closed.

Castle desperately wanted to talk to her about how much she meant to him. How his thoughts were consumed with her. Even when he was doing other things, such as cooking, writing, watching a show, reading a book, even buying groceries, she was never far from his thoughts. He wanted to share every moment with her. He wanted to cook with her, write and read to her what he'd written, watch his shows with her, read a book next to her on the couch. He wanted to talk to her about how she might as well be in his life like that because she was already there, in his mind, occupying that space.

He wanted to say how he knew there wouldn't be another. He hadn't even been with anyone since Gina--a mistake he'd rather not make yet again--because every woman paled in comparison to her. He wanted to tell her how much it ached when he watched her go home alone every night, and how he wanted to hold her tightly and never, ever let go.

He even wanted to admit to her that she was so ingrained in his mind that his dreams were of her. He'd dedicated more damn erections to her than he could count--certainly more than any other woman had ever given him. She was so hot, so incredibly sexy; everything from licking her lips to tucking a lock of hair behind her ears made him want her. He wanted to tell her how he needed her, how he needed to claim her in the most primal way possible, to mark her as his.

He wanted to tell her how he wanted to be the one to protect her. She'd scoff at the idea of anyone protecting her, but he knew that for all of her armor, her heart was a tender, fragile thing. He wanted to tell her that she could leave it with him, and he'd keep it safe. He wanted to say how he would never, ever hurt her, because he knew her better than she knew herself. He knew when she said one thing and meant another, he knew when she was hurting, he knew when she was holding herself back, and he knew when she was burying everything deep inside and pretending those emotions didn't exist.

He wanted to tell her that he knew she loved him, even if she didn't know it herself yet.

But he loved her, and he knew she wasn't ready.

So he left those things unsaid.


	4. The Lair

Rue was absolutely terrified.

She had thought she knew what fear was. She'd lived feeling nothing but fear day in and day out. She'd vomited her guts out, fainted, passed out, hyperventilated, become petrified, and shook so hard her teeth rattled, all in the grips of fear. But this fear was above and beyond anything she had ever known, and she was certain that if it weren't for Kate and Castle she would never have been able to do it.

Beckett had asked Rue to call her "Kate" during a session when they were getting more information from her about the building. Rue hadn't ever seen the outside of the house where she'd lived, but it had to have been across from the park. That, plus Rue's description of the inside of the house and its other occupant, had been enough to figure out the location.

Now they were going back, and they needed Rue with them. The house was filled with booby traps, and only Rue could help to point them out. Rue had been quick to say that a couple of cops had gotten themselves trapped in there a couple of times and become victims themselves.

It was during one of these information-gathering sessions that Rue had started trembling so badly she was crying. Her face was tinged green and she looked like her body was trying to decide whether to faint or vomit. Beckett had asked her what she did to calm down. Rue had admitted that Kale had introduced her to hugs, and would hug her when she had an episode.

Beckett had then gone over to Rue and hugged her. When Rue had thanked Beckett, she'd said to call her Kate.

So now she had Kate. And Kate promised that she would protect Rue. Rue trusted Kate; Kate's eyes might be brown, not green, but they had the same kindness and fire in them that Kale's eyes had, and so Rue trusted Kate.

She also trusted Castle. He was funny. He made Rue laugh. The first time she had laughed, it had bubbled up unexpectedly--so unexpectedly, she'd worried that something was wrong with her. She had never laughed before. Never found anything funny. She hadn't even known that "funny" existed. But Castle made her laugh.

Kate trusted Castle. She trusted him with everything. Rue might not be able to understand the things they said with their mouths, but she knew the things they said with their eyes. And Rue saw that Castle loved Kate. He loved her so much it hurt him. She had a feeling he hadn't told her with his mouth that he loved her, and Kate couldn't see it in his eyes. But Rue understood; she could read eyes. And she saw that Castle told Kate that he loved her with every look and gesture.

Kate loved Castle just as much as he loved her. She just didn't understand it. Rue could sympathize. Kate loved Castle, and she trusted him, and if Kate loved and trusted someone, that was good enough for Rue. She had a feeling Kale would have trusted Kate and Castle, too, so that was all right.

When the day came for the raid, Rue sat in the back of the squad car and tried to think of ways to suppress her gag reflex. Castle sat in the back with her and held her hand. He had told Rue about his daughter, Alexis, and Rue knew that Castle was used to helping scared girls feel better.

"You'd like Alexis," Castle said as the car pulled up. "I think she'd like you, too."

Rue thought about this. "I think I will like her," she said, slowly. She still had a hard time remembering words, and what went where in a sentence, and the difference between words that meant something had already happened compared to when it was happening right now, or would happen sometime in the future. She also had trouble with the little words. They were so pesky! "It," "a," "them," "they," "to," "and," "is"… she was lucky if she remembered to put them in a sentence at all, never mind use them correctly.

The car had stopped. With fear relentlessly clenching at her stomach, like someone crushing her guts in a fist, Rue got out and stood on trembling legs. This was the house. She could feel it--sense the evil seeping out through the cracks in the windows and between the bricks. She shuddered and began to tremble.

The trembling got worse the closer to the front door they got. Soon she was shaking so badly she worried she might fall over. Then she felt a strong, large hand clasp her small, trembling one. She looked up into Castle's eyes. She saw the concern, and the care, as clearly as if the words had been written across his face. His grip was kind but firm, reassuring her that he had her safe. Rue slowly stopped trembling. Castle wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

Kate hammered on the door, yelling things that Rue didn't understand. There was no answer from within. Rue shuddered, and the hand holding hers squeezed gently in reassurance. Kate yelled again, and Rue resisted the urge to clap her hands over her ears. While she was beginning to understand that sound did not equal pain, it was still startling and physically uncomfortable to hear loud noises.

Kate gave a signal to the others around them--special cops called SWAT, Kate had explained--and they burst through the door. Kate gently nodded at Rue, and she entered the house, gripping Castle's hand so tightly her knuckles were white. She felt him wince, but did not lessen her hold. She needed something to anchor her.

Stepping cautiously, Rue surveyed the entryway for a minute, gazing at the various doors and the stairway before pointing at the full-length mirror. It hung opposite the door, and she could see her own terrified reflection in it. She could see Castle's reflection too, and saw that he was fixing his hair. Kate's reflection was rolling her eyes at Castle. Rue pointed at the mirror.

"That way," she whispered.

One of the SWAT men said something, but Rue could only understand the words "why", "wall", and "doors". She was able to piece the rest together.

"Doors trap," she said. She then realized she'd forgotten a word or two, and corrected herself. "Doors are a trap. Trap in room because he know people go through doors."

"Traps are in the rooms because he knows people go through doors," Castle corrected. He had told Rue he was a writer, and after explaining what that meant, Rue understood his need to correct her abysmal language skills. She kind of liked it, actually. She didn't want people thinking she was an idiot. A terrified girl with limited knowledge, yes, but she did have a brain that was in full working order.

"Mirrors are windows. Mirrors are doors. He watch," she whispered.

Castle looked at Kate, and they spoke to one another with their eyes. Rue could understand exactly what they were saying when they did that.

_That's why she knew the two-way mirror was two-way. She didn't know it was two-way, she merely assumed it was because they all are in here._

_Thanks, Castle, I couldn't figure that out for myself._

_Do you think he's watching us right now?_

_I hope he is. That bastard is going to know we're coming for him. I hope he wet his pants._

_Now, now, Detective, is that really professional?_

_Shut up, Castle._

_Yes, ma'am._

Kate turned back to the mirror. "Do you know how to open it?" She asked Rue.

Rue might not have been very good at speaking, but she could understand most of what she heard, unless the person talked too quickly like those SWAT men. It was like they were racing to get the words out, and by the time she'd deciphered the first part of the sentence, they'd finished the second and she hadn't even had a chance to hear it.

Taking a deep breath, Rue slid her hand out of Castle's and walked slowly up to the mirror. She was so scared, so very scared, she could barely even breathe. The fear that clouded her mind defied all symbolism and description. She could only feel that primal urge, the urge to run or hide or stand still just do anything, anything, other than be here. But she fought through that urge. She had to. Kale deserved it.

Gently, her fingers flitting like trapped butterflies, Rue felt for the catch behind the mirror, the same that was behind all the mirrors, and pressed it. Instantly the mirror swung open, and showed that the other side looked like a window, allowing the person to see everything that was going on in the entryway.

Kate hurried forward and looked into the dark passageway. There was no one there, or at least, no one that could be seen. It was utterly dark in there. No light penetrated the thick, soupy darkness that congealed in the air like a living creature.

Kate's flashlight played along the ground, and Rue saw two large, bloody footprints that showed someone had been standing there, watching. As Rue tried to stop herself from rubbing her arteries, she realized that the blood on the footprints was fresh. She looked up, panicked.

Despite the fact that her eyes had adjusted to living in a world with more light, they had not forgotten those years of darkness and quickly adjusted. Rue saw him just before Kate's flashlight did, and she jumped backwards, pushing Kate back as well.

"Rue, what–" Kate's question was cut off when she was forced to jump to the side in order to avoid being hit with the blunt, filthy axe that went flying towards her head, embedding itself into the wall.

All of Rue's fear surged to the surface, to that one point within her and forced itself out of her in an amazing scream that seemed to tear itself from her throat. It disoriented him, forcing him to look at her, and as he pulled out an obscenely long knife the length of Rue's arm, Kate put two bullets in his chest.

Rue watched the light fade from his eyes, the way she had seen it flee from so many others. She gave a little shudder as his body hit the floor with an immense thud. She hadn't even realized she'd been shivering and trembling until Castle put his arms around her, steadying her. Rue felt his strength flow to her and she calmed herself.

It was over. Rue felt a sense of calm stealing over her as she realized that this part of her life was over. He was gone, soon the red blood and the tools and machines would be gone, and Rue could move on. She wasn't dumb--she knew this part of her life would not simply vanish. But it could be flushed out of her, like those amazing "toilets" she'd spent an hour playing with when she'd first discovered them. She could be clean again.

Beckett didn't say a word to anyone about Norman Hostel. She'd recorded that he was the murder responsible for the deaths of roughly fifty people, mostly teens and young adults, and tried to be as objective and cold-blooded as possible when she noted how he'd killed them. She'd added what was known of his family and his life to the case file, and had turned it all in to Captain Gates.

She didn't add in the report that his eyes were the exact same shade of grey-blue as Rue's. She didn't say that he had the same ears and jaw structure. She didn't tell Captain Gates that Rue's DNA was a close match for the blood found on the mattress in the master bedroom. It wasn't Rue's blood, but was the blood of someone closely related. Like her mother.

She did talk to Castle. She talked to Lanie and the boys, when they all when out for drinks at The Old Haunt, the bar that Castle had written his first book in and later bought when it was going to go under. She told them over drinks how Norman Hostel's hair was brunette, not blonde, but that the woman the blood on the mattress belonged to was. The woman, Joy Winters, had also had Rue's body and cheekbones.

They all said nothing, waiting as Beckett laid out fact after tiny fact. When she was finished, no one said anything for a minute. Then Castle spoke.

"You know, I was wondering about that," he said. "I mean, why keep her around? Why keep her alive? She wasn't an apprentice or someone who was willingly following in his footsteps. She'd clearly lived her entire life there, so she was weak and helpless for most of her young life--a liability. It's really the only explanation that makes sense not only as to why she was there, but why she'd stayed alive for so long."

Beckett nodded. Castle gave her that look that said "I know you're holding something back, so just spit it out instead of bottling it up."

Beckett struggled, but under his piercing blue gaze she couldn't lie. "I don't like it," she admitted in a ferocious burst. "And not just because of Rue; I do hate that she came from that, that bastard, but we only have circumstantial evidence and I know I'm not going to tell her."

She gave the others a look that said they'd better not tell Rue either. She then continued. "It's also the idea that… that…"

"That if he kept her alive all that time, and for that reason, then there's a shred of humanity in him," Castle finished for her. "And you don't like the idea that a monster like that could even fathom the idea of--never mind harbor any--love."

Beckett nodded numbly. "The things he did… the sick, twisted mind he had… it's just easier to look at him like a monster."

"Well, even Grendel's mother had enough love in her to avenge her son's death," Ryan put in.

Everyone turned and looked at him, making him fidget. After a minute, Castle snapped his fingers.

"Beowulf!" He crowed, triumphant at having figured out the reference.

Esposito treated both Castle and Ryan to a blank look, then shook his head and took a swig of beer.

Castle looked over at Beckett, and she understood. She stood up from the table.

"You know what guys, it's late. I really should be hitting the sack soon," she said.

Castle jumped up. "I'll go too."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "Okay, Castle. But this time, you pay for the cab."

They bid their friends adieu, ignoring Ryan's desperate look as he realized he'd be alone with Esposito and Lanie, who were both still sore from the breakup, and headed out.

Once they were safely ensconced in a cab, Beckett turned to Castle. "All right, Writer Boy; spit it out."

Castle leaned towards her, his expression intense. "I'm concerned about Rue."

Beckett nodded. She would never admit it, but the girl had grown on her, and she was worried about what would happen to her.

"I mean, I know she's a bright kid, and she has a lot of opportunity before her. But even though she can understand a lot of what we say, she still has trouble talking, she has all those phobias to work through, she knows next to nothing about modern technology--heck, she spent an hour flushing a toilet repeatedly to see how it worked--and you can't just ignore the first however many years of her life she spent in that hellhole. We can't just let her go into the system."

Beckett knew what Castle meant. The foster system was filled with people who genuinely cared, but the sad truth was that a lot of people didn't, and the red tape, papers and administrating often forced the kids themselves to take a backseat. Not to mention that average families would have no idea how to handle Rue, and the poor girl would most likely take years to recover from the culture shock.

"What are you suggesting?" Beckett asked.

Castle took a deep breath then looked Beckett straight in the eye. "I'm suggesting that we become Rue's guardians."


	5. Strays

Beckett looked at Castle like he'd just suggested she take up knitting. "Her  _guardians_?" She asked.

The intensity in Castle's eyes did not waver. "Think about it, Beckett. I care about Rue, and I know that you do, too. We can't just let her go into the system. She's already had enough misery in her life; we don't want to subject her to more. She trusts us, and I know that we could help her. She would just be our ward--you know, like Batman and Robin."

Beckett looked at him. Castle's eyes held that icy determination, and his jaw was solidly set. She let a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "Castle, you're going to become her guardian whether I'm on board or not."

Castle had the grace to look sheepish. "I would, honestly, like you to be a joint guardian with me--Rue clearly likes you and I think it would be helpful, but if you don't want the responsibility…"

"You know something, Castle?" Beckett said, a full-fledged smile taking over her features, "For all the land on the moon you buy, you are one of the most selfless people I know."

Castle looked like she'd hit him with a taser. "Uh, thanks?"

"You were already left to raise one kid by yourself, Castle. I'm not about to let you raise another one," Beckett said. "Besides," she added, leaning back into the car seat, "Having Rue around will be good for you."

"So you'll do it?" He asked eagerly.

Closing her eyes and praying she wasn't about to make a huge mistake, Beckett nodded. "Yes, Castle; I'll be Rue's joint guardian with you--on one condition."

She opened an eye and stared Castle down, making him gulp. "She stays at  _your_  house."

"Well that goes without saying," Castle replied, relieved. "I'll need her to be my lookout when I snoop on Alexis' computer."

* * *

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Beckett asked Castle as they took the elevator to his apartment. She had initially been against being there when he told Mother and Alexis about their plan, but he'd argued that if she was going to be Rue's guardian, she needed to take the bull by the horns.

The truth was Castle was still on cloud nine that she'd agreed. He knew that Beckett cared for Rue--the girl had quickly grown on them both. He was fairly certain that Rue would be ecstatic to be staying with them. But he also knew that Beckett had intimacy issues, especially when it came to motherhood. And while Castle had carefully avoided anything that would suggest that Beckett was becoming Rue's surrogate mother, he knew the impression would not be lost on her.

He himself was having an unexpected emotional problem in this whole business – while he was quite happy to step into the role of surrogate father to Rue, and was certain she'd quickly win over the hearts of both his mother and Alexis, he hadn't thought about what that made him and Beckett. Surrogate mother, surrogate father…

Castle would be lying if he hadn't thought of starting a family with Beckett. He was still in the prime of his life, after all, and while he had no intentions of raising a baseball team, the idea of raising a mini Kate--or a male version of her--had appealed to him. But if Beckett was shy about relationships, she avoided family talk like the plague. He didn't want her making any connections between the two of them that she wasn't ready for, even if they were now raising a kid together.

A messed up, feral, mute, scared-of-her-own-shadow kid of questionable age.

Despite all of his reservations, however, Castle was ready to jump in with both feet. Beckett, on the other hand, appeared to be having second thoughts.

"Of course it's a good idea. Alexis has always wanted a sibling--she never said anything but her diary is full of it–"

"Castle, you  _read her diary?_ "

"I stopped when she turned twelve!"

"I cannot believe you, Castle. I really can't."

"I know; it's hard to believe someone so amazing could be real."

"That ego of yours is going to be the death of you someday."

"Seriously, Beckett, I think this will be good for everyone involved. Didn't you see how Rue's face lit up when we saw her today? She practically threw herself at you. And she's not scared of loud noises anymore."

Beckett ran a hand through her hair, a sure sign that she was nervous. "I know, Castle, and I really do care for her. It's just… you know what they say about strays."

"She's not a stray, Beckett. She's just a little girl that needs a home."

"She's not that little, Castle."

This was true. DNA results had been delayed due to a problem in administration, but Rue had to be around Alexis' age. Castle suspected she was younger, but that could have just been her frail form and young demeanor.

Beckett took a deep breath. She was concentrating on the buttons lighting up, indicating the floors they were passing. "I just don't know if we're doing the right thing. I don't know anything about raising a kid."

At least she hadn't brought up  _his_  parenting skills. "Do my ears deceive me? The great detective Kate Beckett, the same detective who's faced serial killers, assassins, and dirty bombs without so much as batting an eye, and now you're telling me you're scared by a girl? One of the sweetest, most innocent girls I've ever known, I might add."

Beckett gave an exasperated sigh and a half-hearted eye roll; a sure sign that she was nervous. "Castle, how am I supposed to do this? She has no idea what she's in for. Our world is so completely different from the one she's grown up in."

"And with good reason," Castle snorted.

Beckett still looked unsure. Castle turned to face her head on.

"Beckett," he barely stopped himself from saying 'Kate'. "You are one of the most caring people I know. You will stop at nothing to bring a criminal to justice, and not just because you're all about vengeance. It's because you want to validate the victim; you want to bring their family and friends peace. Did you know that you are Alexis' role model? You're practically her mentor. You're not the most hands-on person but you are ten times more caring, and thoughtful, and nurturing than any other person I know."

Beckett was looking at him as if he'd turned into a pod person. Castle had to admit that seriously complimenting her, rather than making jibes, was not his usual M.O. But he meant every word.

Taking a deep breath that only shuddered a little, Beckett turned away from him, towards the elevator doors, and nodded.

"Okay, Castle. Let's do this." She spoke haltingly, but her voice did not shake or tremble.

"You know, they say that mutts are cuter than pedigrees," Castle commented as they exited the elevator.

"I said 'strays', Castle, not 'mutts'," Beckett said. He could sense the eye roll even though all he could see was her back.

"But aren't strays usually mutts?" He asked.

"I swear Castle, if you start splitting hairs with me I will–" Beckett's threat was cut off when Alexis opened the door on her way to the store to pick up forgotten ingredients for dinner.

Alexis and Martha were surprisingly receptive. While they'd heard all about Rue from Castle, Beckett had secretly feared that they would object to a strange girl, whom they'd never met, suddenly living with them.

Martha seemed pleased at the idea, but Alexis was more verbal. She'd happily welcomed the idea of having someone her own age to have around the house, and the idea of that someone being impossibly naïve actually seemed to appeal to her.

"I can teach her things--math, history, reading… it'll be a great experience," she enthused.

She didn't say it, but Beckett could tell that Alexis was also looking forward to having an ally when it came to dealing with her dad and someone else to accompany Martha on her shopping crusades.

In fact, the only objection Alexis had was that she refused to share her room.

"I knew being an only child had made you selfish!" Castle crowed like he'd won a game of pool. "I just couldn't figure out how."

Alexis, a remarkably unselfish person, rolled her eyes. Castle quickly soothed over any ruffled feathers, however.

"I was planning on having her stay in the guest room," he explained. "Eventually we'll be able to decorate it how she likes." He frowned slightly. "There's no red in the guest room, is there?"

"No. The color scheme is blue, if I recall," Martha said.

"I can't believe the two of you don't even know your own house," Beckett joked.

"It's definitely blue," Alexis assured them all. She turned to her father. "So when is she coming?"

"We'll have her move in as soon as the paperwork is finished." Castle said. "Oh, that reminds me--Beckett here might be over a little more often now that Rue's going to be living her. As Rue's other guardian, she'll need to keep an eye on her and check on how she's doing."

"And make sure that Peter Pan here doesn't make her even more messed up," Beckett added.

Castle put on a dramatic expression of shock and placed his hand over his heart. "Ouch! That was cold, Detective."

Beckett rolled her eyes to draw attention away from the fact that she was struggling to hide a smile. She would never, ever tell him, as his ego was already too big, but she always found it amusing when he got all dramatic like that in fun. He got it from his mother, she supposed.

Thinking about Castle's big ego made her think about other things of his that might be on the large side, and she swallowed her coffee with a gulp that made her throat burn.

"Are you certain that she'll be comfortable here, Richard?" Martha asked. "I mean, it's far different from anything she's ever experienced."

"Well, you know what they say about strays, Mother," Castle said with a sly grin. "They'll make their home anywhere."

Beckett felt like smacking him playfully on the shoulder--not too hard, just enough to know that she meant business. But if she reacted to his words that way, she'd have to explain to Alexis and Martha… and she didn't feel like explaining her doubts to them. She didn't like explaining her doubts to anyone, which was why it was so damn annoying that Castle  _knew_  her doubts without her even voicing them.

What was even more damn annoying was that she also loved how well he could read her.

When Castle and Kate entered the room, Rue launched herself at them. While the people at the precinct were kind, they had policies and refused to leave the lights on at night. Every time she slipped into sleep, Rue would have horrific nightmares. Opening her eyes to pitch-black surroundings didn't help. Rue was not afraid of the dark; she had lived in it most of her life, and merely saw it as an obstacle, an adjustment. It meant she had to rely on her other senses more, rather than mainly sight. She was used to the dark.

It wasn't the dark that scared her but rather the absence of light. Waking in the dark was like being back in the basement all over again, and she would have to struggle to remember that the basement was over, that she was safe. She'd have to fight back fears that the past couple of weeks had not been a tortuously sweet dream. If she could wake up in a room that was lit, filled with bright, warm light, she'd be able to quickly dispel her fears. As it was, she needed affirmation that she was, indeed, awake and well. Seeing Castle and Kate was one of those affirmations.

Hugs were another.

Kate always seemed a little taken aback and initially reluctant about the physical display of affection, but she quickly reciprocated and hugged Rue back nearly as tightly as Rue hugged Kate. Castle was much more open in his manner, and gave Rue as many hugs and kisses on the top of her head as she could ask for. She loved it when he smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head. It made her feel wanted, like she was something valuable, something that someone thought precious. Like normal people.

She'd expected Kate and Castle to stop coming once they'd gotten all the information they needed for their case. She'd spent long hours crying about it in the precinct cell. The cops had put her there while they went through all the paperwork with child services and the foster system, and had been thoughtful enough to place her in an empty corridor so she wouldn't be disturbed by any pickpockets or muggers. She hadn't minded the cell. Unlike most people, she didn't associate it with anything negative, such as imprisonment or punishment. She merely thought the bars were kind of weird.

Although everyone had been kind, they had kept their distance. Rue figured that they had heard about her behavior upon first entering the precinct, and how she'd been raised by a serial killer. She couldn't blame them for giving her a wide berth. That would be enough to make anyone keep their distance. Only Castle and Kate had genuinely cared for her. They'd talked to her, and hugged her, and brought her things--well, Castle brought her things, usually chocolate. Rue loved it so much that when she'd first tasted it, she'd eaten the entire box at once. Then she'd felt sick, and afterwards she paced herself on her chocolate consumption.

It was after she'd met with a social services worker--from child protection or something similar--that she'd realized she wasn't going to see Kate or Castle again. They were going to take her away, and Castle and Kate wouldn't be able to visit her. The child worker had been polite, explaining to Rue how she'd have a nice home, with parents, and toys, and things that normal children had.

When Rue had asked if she would still get to see Castle and Kate, the child worker's face had kind of frozen. She'd tried to hide what she was thinking by making her eyes freeze and her face stiff, but eyes couldn't lie. After a moment, the child worker had said that "they would see about that" and that Castle and Kate might get to visit her once in a while. She'd stressed the word "might"

Rue had cried herself to sleep that night. The child worker had continued to stress how Rue would get to be a normal girl in a normal house with a normal family, but Rue didn't want that. She didn't want to be "normal."

She wanted to be with Castle and Kate.

So when Castle and Kate walked into the room, Rue hugged them so tightly that she'd felt their muscles squish a little. She'd even felt their bones. Castle had protested that she was going to crush him, which made Rue giggle.

He gently pulled her back by the shoulders, holding her like that and examining her face. She saw the minute concern flickered to life in his eyes. "Have you been crying?"

Rue hung her head. She didn't like showing her feelings; she'd quickly learned, in her old life, that it was better to keep a stony face. Crying or even flinching earned her an hour of kneeling on grits or raccoon eyes.

Kate had crouched down, now, and gently picked up Rue's chin, angling her face so that Kate could look directly into Rue's eyes.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

Rue didn't lie. Even if her words and body lied, her eyes wouldn't. Eyes didn't lie. So she shook her head, knowing that Kate would see the truth in her eyes anyway.

"What's wrong?" Kate asked.

Rue tried to find the words to express herself, but couldn't--she wasn't even sure that words existed that could describe how she felt. Instead, her breath built up in her chest until it shot out of her and she started crying, shaking violently.

The next thing she felt were Kate's strong arms around her, and Kate's hands stroking her hair, and Kate's soothing voice in her ear, calming her. When Rue had recovered enough to breathe normally, although she occasionally hiccupped, Kate pulled back.

"What did that social worker tell you?" Castle asked wonderingly. Then he made a face. "Don't tell me that Ryan and Esposito paid you a visit. Whatever stories they told you about me, they're not true."

Social worker; so  _that_  was the correct name for the child worker. The "social worker"… who said that Rue wouldn't see Kate or Castle again… Rue nearly started crying all over again.

"Tell us what's wrong," Kate commanded gently. Despite her tone, Rue knew that Kate was in charge. Rue knew that while on one level it had something to do with Kate being 'the boss'; she also knew that it was just a part of who Kate was. Kate had to be in control.

"Child worker said I no see you again."

"She's a social worker. And it's 'I won't see you–'" Castle's grammar lesson was cut short as what Rue had said sunk in. "Wait--she  _what_?"

"Child--social worker," Rue corrected herself, "Said I go to normal house. Have normal family. Be normal girl. She said you  _might_  visit. But eyes don't lie. I won't see you again." Rue's voice was getting smaller and smaller, until she ended the sentence in a whisper.

Castle and Kate shared one of those looks. It wasn't a silent conversation, it was just a look. Sometimes, that was all it took for them to understand each other.

"Rue… did the social worker talk to you about guardianship?" Castle asked.

Rue shook her head.

"Social worker come once. No come again."

Castle nodded. He sat down at the table, and indicated that Rue do the same. She sat. He took one look at Kate, who shot him a reassuring glance. He took a steadying breath and looked at Rue.

"Rue… Beckett and I…"

Rue would never understand why he didn't call her Kate, when he clearly wanted to, but she indulged him. She had a feeling that Kate had not yet given him permission to call her that, the way she had given it to Rue. It was strange, when she cared about him so much, but Rue figured that she would understand eventually.

"We care about you very much, Rue. And we want you to be happy. So we talked to foster care and all the rest; in fact, we just finished signing the paperwork today."

Rue nodded. So far, she had understood every word that Castle had said. That didn't mean she understood what the meaning of what he was saying was, but at least she understood the words.

"As of today, Rue, we are now your guardians."

Rue's confusion must have shown on her face, because Castle hastened to explain. "We're not your parents, Rue, but we get to take care of you. You get to live with us--with me, actually--and stay with us."

Rue's heart had sped up to an insane speed the moment she processed the words 'we get to take care of you', and when she understood what Castle meant by 'stay with us', Rue threw herself at him again, hugging him so tightly that this time he really did groan in pain.

Rue felt tears sting her eyes, and knew that there were no words to describe how happy she felt. Even if she'd grown up speaking and interacting with people the way normal people did, she wouldn't be able to find the words that told Kate and Castle just how much joy she felt, and how filled her heart was.

That was all right, though, because words weren't needed. By the way Kate and Castle hugged her, and how Castle kissed her head and Kate tucked her hair behind her ears, Rue knew that they understood completely.

She'd heard a word uttered a couple of times by some of the cops, and even the social worker. She'd had to ask Castle what it meant, and when he'd explained it to her, she knew they were talking about her. But now she knew she would never hear people use that word to describe her again, because she had a home now. She had people who loved her.

She was no longer a stray.


	6. Housetraining

"I could've sworn I brought a girl into my house; not a puppy," Castle joked as he surveyed what was formerly his guest bedroom. It was technically Rue's room now, but at the moment it looked more like the room of a whirling dervish--or the room of one of those houses ravished by a hurricane.

The comment was directed at some bed sheets that had rips and tears in them. Castle knew why those rips and tears were there. They were from when Rue had nightmares and clenched the sheets so hard that they tore as she tossed and turned.

Unlike at the precinct, Castle had let her sleep with the light on, as long as she kept the bedroom door closed so that the light didn't disturb anyone else. He'd expressed concern that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep, but Rue had explained that the amount of light in a room didn't determine her ability to sleep.

A nice bed did, however... If Rue had thought the thin mattress at the precinct was comfortable, she'd been astounded with the bed in the guest--now her--bedroom. It was heavenly to sleep on such a large, springy, soft mattress. And the sheets and blankets were absolutely divine. They were so soft, and so clean, and so smooth, it almost defied description. Rue had never in her life been so comfortable or slept so soundly. She also hadn't ever felt so loved.

There was, however, the problem of housetraining. Between the modern technology, the house rules, and the other occupants and their schedules to get used to, Rue's head was fairly spinning. Castle couldn't blame her. He'd expected she'd have a bit of a shock and take some time to adjust. What he hadn't expected was that it would have such an effect upon the others, including himself.

For one thing, Rue had no idea how to work a shower. She'd learned the basics while at the precinct, but the mechanics of the luxurious bathtubs that Castle had in his house were beyond her. Alexis had spent over an hour patiently explaining and demonstrating how each knob and button worked, and even managed to explain to Rue that the toilet was not a toy. This was quite a relief for Castle, who'd seen his water bill skyrocketing in his mind's eye.

Now that the problem of Rue getting herself clean--and running into the bathroom just to flush the toilet every twenty minutes--was taken care of, there were still other issues. Clothing, for example.

Rue had observed the clothing worn by the victims she'd shared the house with in her old life, and had even worn some of their clothes after they'd died. Despite this, however, she was still unsure about what articles of clothing went where, how they were worn, and what was decent. The concept of fashion escaped her completely, and drove Martha into fits of despair.

In the end, Castle and Alexis had compiled a wardrobe, mostly of basics, and taken pictures of various acceptable outfits. They had then taped these pictures to the closet walls. Every morning Rue would choose a picture, and pick out the combination from the closet. Problem solved.

The next problem to present itself was the one Castle was staring at now. Rue had lived in conditions so filthy and despicable, it defied imagination, and she (understandably) had no problem living in a room that was a bit untidy. A bit untidy by Rue's standards, however, was amazingly messy and disorganized by anyone else's. Clearly, something would have to be done.

He'd let Beckett deal with this one, though. She knew better than he did how to keep things organized--after all, she was the one who handled the paperwork--and she was a woman as well. Besides, he knew that Rue loved her to the point of idolization, and using that to their advantage couldn't hurt.

Rue was far from a puppy, but he definitely had to housetrain her.

* * *

 

Castle wasn't kidding when he said the room looked like the Tasmanian Devil from the Looney Tunes had a temper tantrum. Clothes were crumpled and thrown willy-nilly, piled up randomly on the floor. Plates, glasses and other eating utensils were in piles around the bed from when Rue ate in the room--they'd have to talk to her about that.

The bed looked like a war zone, what with the torn sheets and the covers lumped everywhere. Castle had told her how Rue would have nightmares every night. Beckett couldn't blame her. Her mother's death had given Beckett nightmares for months, and she hadn't gone through half of what Rue had.

Rue herself was surveying the room rather objectively. She didn't seem to view the mess as a problem. She turned and looked up at Beckett, her eyes wide and innocent. She honestly didn't seem to understand why Beckett was so irked.

This was not going to be easy.

"Rue, are you comfortable?" Beckett asked.

The girl looked at the clothes she was wearing, then the room, and then shrugged. "I guess so," she said.

Beckett bit back a sigh. It must be Castle's influence--Rue was spending too much time with the insufferable man. That insufferable man had left the top two buttons on his shirt undone, revealing a little too much--and too little--toned chest for Beckett's liking…

"You can't be comfortable in this mess, Rue. You have to keep things organized," Beckett explained. She stole a look at Rue, who seemed to be thinking things over.

"Organized…" Rue said slowly, rolling the word over her tongue and savoring it the way she savored chocolate truffles.

"I'll show you," Beckett said, taking Rue by the hand and leading her over to her closet. "First, we'll start with your clothes…"

* * *

 

_Briiiiing!_

"Beckett."

"What did you do to her?"

"What are you talking about Castle?"

"Rue. She's just finished cleaning the bathrooms and now she's started on the kitchen. Her bedroom looks like Martha Stewart was in it."

"I simply explained to her about how important it was to keep things clean and that it actually made her life easier if her things were neat and organized. I also talked to her about how doing something--like cleaning--can give you a sense of accomplishment and helping out."

"Funny how you should have told her about that, when the last time I was at your apartment it wasn't exactly–"

"Castle, the last time you were at my apartment you stormed in and we had a fight. You're telling me that you had time to notice my décor or if my couch had stains on it?"

"I counted at least five dirty dishes on the kitchen counter. Your couch was fine but your coffee table was an abomination."

"Castle–"

"You are a disgrace to the female sex, you know that? Maybe you could use some housetraining."

"Castle, my apartment is not any of your business."

"Maybe I should let Rue loose in there. At the rate she's going, she'll have it clean in a few hours."

"Castle…"

"Do you think you could convince her that taxes are fun, too? Because those are always a pain in the neck…"

"Castle, I am teaching Rue how to do your taxes. Nor am I teaching her how to clean my apartment."

"I'm just saying–-uh, Beckett? What's that sound?"

"That's my breathing."

"That's pretty heavy breathing."

"Castle, I'm on the treadmill at the gym."

"Really? … What are you wearing?"

"Castle, are you kidding me?"

"Don't tell me you're wearing one of those weird outfits with the highlighter pen colors."

"No, I am not."

"Are you one of those people who wear all those sweatbands everywhere?"

"Castle…"

"One time I saw a woman who had a sweatband on her ankle. Who wears a sweatband on their ankle?"

"Castle!"

"Yes?"

"Can I finish my workout in peace?"

"Sure, detective. Oh, hey, what gym do you use? We could work out together…"

"Castle, I am not working out with you."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to be the laughingstock of the gym."

"Hey! I'll have you know–"

"Goodbye, Castle."

*beep*


	7. Redhead, Blonde, and Brunette

"Dad, have you seen my purse?"

Alexis was wandering through the living room, looking under the coffee table and on the couch. Castle looked up from the kitchen counter, where he was preparing a sandwich.

"I think it's on the floor by the door," he said. He watched as Alexis found the purse in the aforementioned spot and started to put on her shoes.

"Where are you going?" He asked. Alexis had been spending an awful lot of time with her girlfriends since her breakup with Ashley, and he assumed she was going to go shopping with them.

Just then Rue hurried down the stairs, wearing a blue shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers. Her blonde hair was tied neatly in a ponytail. Although they were still working on Rue's fear of red (Alexis' hair color was certainly helping), Rue had quickly warmed up to the color blue, and wore it frequently.

Castle watched as Rue joined Alexis at the front door with all the eagerness of a puppy. He had to smile. Alexis was incredibly patient with Rue, teaching her how to read and introducing things like history and government.

"Rue and I are going to the museum for the day," Alexis said. "We're going to hit all the museums that we can."

"I hate to burst your bubble but this is New York City," Castle reminded her. "I doubt you'll be able to hit  _all_  of the museums."

"We can try!" Rue said happily. Her smile was no longer a strained thing, but a vibrant grin that stole over her features smoothly and frequently.

"Just stay safe," Castle reminded them.

"Of course, Dad," Alexis said, rolling her eyes.

"Of course," Rue parroted.

Castle smiled and gave them a little wave as they left. He was just about to bite into his sandwich when his phone rang. Upon seeing the caller ID, he smiled, and not just because the picture for the caller ID showed the most beautiful woman in the world.

It meant there was a mystery to solve.

* * *

 

Upon returning to his loft after a day of searching apartments and questioning suspects, Castle found Alexis on the couch reading a book on Tutankhamen.

"I didn't know you were into Egyptian history," he remarked as he took off his jacket.

"I wasn't. I'd studied a little of it in school already, but Rue was just fascinated by it." Alexis carefully set the book aside and looked up at her father. "I love teaching her things and helping her learn; she makes me want to study things all over again. Her enthusiasm is infectious."

"Well that's great!" Castle said, settling down next to her on the couch.

Alexis nodded. "It is. I learn just as much as she does--more, actually, because I'm ready for the more complex things."

"Ah. Still having trouble explaining the bank system?"

Alexis smiled. "Yes; I'm glad I studied economics and such with Ashley--it's coming in handy."

"Speaking of our favorite blonde," Castle said, looking around the apartment, "Where is she?"

"Oh, she went off to bed. The museum really wore her out."

"She's taking in so much, I'm not surprised," Castle mused.

He put an arm around Alexis, pulling her close. She settled her head on his shoulder. "You know," he said, "I'm so grateful for what you're doing with Rue. It's only benefiting you both, and the way you too get along is more than I could have hoped for." He kissed the top of Alexis' forehead. "I'm so proud of you."

Alexis snuggled into him. "Thanks, Dad. And it's kind of hard not to get along with her; she's so sweet and just happy to be around you, you just can't help but love her."

"She is a sweetheart," Castle agreed. "And all this studying can only benefit you, Miss If-at-first-you-don't-succeed…"

Alexis' smile grew and she wriggled out of her father's grasp. "Very funny, Dad. I'm off to bed."

She gathered her book and gave him a light kiss, tripping up the stairs with her red hair swinging gently. Castle leaned back into the couch, smiling. For all her intelligence and controlling manner, Alexis was as much of a sweetheart as Rue was.

* * *

 

Castle had to re-think that particular adjective in regards to Rue as he hurried down the hall in the hospital. When he entered the room, he saw Alexis sitting in a chair next to the examination table, while a worse-for-wear Rue was sitting on the table itself. She had a stubborn scowl on her face as she talked to the attending doctor.

"What happened?" Castle asked, concerned as his eyes darted from one girl to another.

"We had just left the Metropolitan, and this guy was walking towards us very quickly," Alexis began.

"Bad guy. Eyes on ground, but sneak looks at Alexis purse. Walk fast, getting ready to run," Rue interjected, trying to explain.

"Rue sensed something from his body language and told me that we should avoid him," Alexis continued.

"No like him. I can tell he go do something bad," Rue explained.

"I told her that he was probably just in a hurry. But as we walked past, he grabbed by purse and started to take off with it," Alexis said animatedly. "I was too in shock to do anything but Rue leapt on him like… like a tiger or something, and they got into this tussle on the sidewalk. Rue got slammed around a little but she gave as good as she got, and she had just gotten the purse from him when a beat cop intervened."

Castle looked over at Rue, her face morphing from its usual softness to a hard, stony face of fury. She practically growled her next sentence.

"Nobody hurt Alexis. Nobody mean to Alexis. Nobody hurt family. Somebody be mean or hurt, they pay."

"Trying to make up for years of not being able to do anything, Rue?"

Castle nearly jumped. He hadn't heard Beckett enter, but now that he was aware of her presence, the smell of her--not just of her perfume, but of Beckett herself--was distractingly intoxicating, as always. He was fairly certain that her smell was going to distract him and earn him a bullet or something someday.

Rue's face crumpled, sensing Beckett's disapproving tone and acting accordingly. Of course, for Rue, acting accordingly meant expecting harsh physical punishment, and both Beckett and Castle were unsettled to see her cringe instinctively.

Castle looked from one girl to another: Alexis, sitting calmly but self-righteously, proud of her personal guard dog, Rue, looking like a kicked puppy but still proudly bearing her bruises and cut cheek (from the metal purse clasp), and Beckett, regarding Rue with a raised eyebrow and a smirk that she usually reserved for Castle. Between his daughter, his ward, and his love, these women were going to be the death of him.

Okay, so it was Beckett who would most likely be sending him to an early grave. The brunette walked up to Rue, that teasing smirk still on her face, and wrapped her arms around Rue in a warm hug.

Whatever Rue was expecting, it wasn't that. She quickly got over her surprise, however, and hugged Beckett fiercely in return. Castle would have been jealous of the amount of hugs and physical contact Rue received from Beckett, had said physical contact not been so overwhelmingly maternal. And the kind of physical contact that Castle wanted from Beckett was definitely not maternal.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Beckett crouched down a little in front of Rue. "What you did was very brave," she said. "You're a very brave and loving girl, Rue."

Rue nodded to indicate that she understood what Beckett was saying. Everyone had quickly learned to pause every couple of sentences to make sure a word or phrase hadn't thrown the girl for a loop. This was especially difficult for Martha. Even though she doted on Rue and spoiled the girl rotten, she had a hard time remembering not to talk at her usual (dramatic) high speed.

"But you have to think about what you're doing before you do it, or you might end up doing something you regret."

Rue thought for a moment, mulling over the idea, and then nodded.

"What if that man had a knife, Rue? He could have hurt you."

"I get worse hurt than that," Rue said staunchly.

It's rather difficult to argue about personal safety with the daughter of a psychotic killer.

"Really?" Beckett said. Castle recognized that tone; it was the "don't play with the pro" voice. "You've been stabbed before, Rue? Because I think that's a lot more serious than the things you've told me about. You could have ended up in the hospital or in jail, Rue."

Rue's face showed that Beckett was getting through to her, but she still put up a fight. "But he hurt Alexis! Nobody hurt people I love."

Beckett nodded. "And nobody will. You can still protect people you love, Rue. But think, before you do anything. Okay?"

Rue nodded.

"Do you promise me?"

"I promise."

"Good."

Beckett gave Rue another hug, then caught Castle's eye. Castle found himself getting wrapped in her face again. In her beautiful, striking eyes… her jaw line… her quirky eyebrows… her smooth, smooth skin…

It wasn't until said skin flushed and said eyebrows rose that Castle realized Beckett had noticed him staring. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Now that everyone's okay," he said, "Why don't we get something to eat? You girls made me miss my lunch."

Three heads--red, blonde, and brunette--nodded.


	8. Unexpected Advantages

If anyone had asked Rue if she felt any affection towards her former… whatever he was, she would have said no.

If anyone had asked her if she missed any aspect of her former life, she would have said no.

If anyone had asked her if there was anything good about her former life, she would have shaken her head.

But despite how unbelievably horrible her old life was, how desperately she wanted to forget it, and how much she loved the things she was discovering in her new life with Castle, Kate, Alexis and Martha, an interesting fact was beginning to present itself--a fact that, while odd and at times inconvenient, could not be denied.

There were unexpected advantages to being raised by a psychotic serial killer.

For one thing, you really developed an ability to read people. And while fear would be the thing a killer is trying to sniff out, you end up reading and recognizing other emotions, too.

Like love. Rue could tell that Kate and Castle loved each other. She'd had no idea that love could be so powerful. She'd had a glimpse of love, shown to her by Kale. She'd since experienced love herself, and was surprised by how strongly and unconditionally she felt it. She'd also learned that there are different forms of love. The love she felt for Alexis was different than the love she felt for Castle. It didn't mean she loved one person above or more than the other; it was just… different. But it was still love.

That said, the love that Kate and Castle shared could be felt in everything they did. Kate was more restrained about it, holding it inside of her as if letting it out was a bad or weak thing. Castle was more open and expressive, but quiet. Rue had a strong feeling that he was waiting for Kate to make the first move.

It was extremely frustrating that the two of them would not do anything about it. And so, Rue had decided to take matters into her own hands.

After getting over her fear of mirrors and such, Rue had quickly discovered the joys of television. This included going through Castle's collection of movies. She was currently working through the science fiction when an exciting new film came out. Eager to see a film "on the big screen", she'd roped Kate and Castle into taking her, just the three of them. Rue had perfected Castle's "puppy dog eyes" trick, and had found that it was most useful in pleading her case with Kate. Now the date was set.

The date for the performance, that is.

* * *

 

There were unexpected advantages to being raised by a murdering fiend.

One of those advantages was attention to detail. Another was the ability to set a scene. A third was being good at faking things. And another was a complete and utter ruthlessness when it came to fulfilling a plan, no matter what means need be employed to reach those ends.

Running around the empty loft, Rue set the scene. A thermometer, having been under a hot water bottle for the good part of an hour, now lay next to a pile of "used" tissue which were strewn on the coffee table. Several science fiction DVDs lay on the coffee table next to the tissue box and a bowl that had formerly held chicken noodle soup. Several pillows were propped up on the couch, along with two blankets. The film  _Serenity_  was on the television, paused roughly twenty minutes into the film.

Examining herself critically in the mirror, Rue dabbed just a bit more makeup under her eyes. The makeup had been borrowed from Martha's extensive supply, and Rue had used it to give herself a wane, exhausted look. She had also gotten herself to cry by watching the first five minutes of the new  _Star Trek_  film because inflicting pain wasn't working. Her eyes were now suitably red and puffy. A hot water bottle on her face had made her sweaty and red, and all she had to do was shuffle about pitifully in her slippers and bathrobe.

When Castle came home, he found a sniffling Rue lying languidly on the couch, tissue in one hand and remote in the other, watching River Tam destroy a bar that looked like a combination of a Japanese mall and a Western saloon.

"What happened?" He asked.

Rue obligingly hit pause on the film and tried to sit up. "I not feel well," she said mournfully. "No feel well past two days, but pretend fine so go see movie on the big screen. But then…" Here she pictured Kirk's dad getting blown up and started to cry, "Then I throw up and nose runny and now I too sick to go!"

Castle immediately went over to hug her, and this was where unexpected advantage number four became useful, because if it weren't for her sheer ruthless determination, Rue would have caved when she saw how concerned Castle was.

He felt her forehead, frowning. He then picked up the thermometer. "Did you use this?" He asked.

Rue nodded. "I not understand what means, but know sick people use."

Castle frowned. "98? Rue, how long have you felt like this?"

Rue shrugged. "Since morning. I watch movies." She gestured dully at the television screen.

Castle ignored the television. "You certainly can't go see the film like this."

As if to emphasis his point, Rue gave a couple coughs that racked her body. Personally, she thought making her rib cage shake a little was a nice touch. It certainly had the desired effect on Castle, who wrapped her up in the blankets.

Castle's phone made a chiming sound, and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket to check on it. Rue could see it was one of those text message things.

"Beckett says she's at the theater." Castle looked up at Rue. "I'll tell her you're too sick to go."

"No!" Rue's hand shot out and closed over Castle's so that he couldn't use the phone. She let the word trail off into a cough, which she "tried" to stifle.

"You go. See movie. Have fun with Kate. Tell me if good. I stay home. Okay?"

Castle frowned. Rue could see the war going on in his head. He was weighing his desire to see a film with Kate in a quasi-date against the fear that she'd see right through him and shove a bag of popcorn down his throat.

"Okay. But only so that I can tell you about the movie, okay?"

He was such a bad liar. No wonder Kate hated going undercover with him. Rue nodded fervently, sniffing. "Okay."

Giving another weak cough, she lay back down on the couch, snuggling into the blankets. Castle tucked her in and hit play on the remote.

"Get some rest, okay?" He instructed, kissing her sweaty forehead before heading out quietly and locking the door behind him.

The minute she heard the lock click, Rue leapt off the sofa and started doing a happy dance that was so energetic she knocked the box of tissues over.

"I knew it would work! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" She crowed ecstatically to Captain Malcolm. "It's, it's…" She struggled to find a word to describe both how she felt, and the situation. "Shiny! Shiny, shiny, shiny!"

Yes, there were unexpected advantages to pretty much any situation, if you knew how to use them.

* * *

 

Beckett did not fail to notice the lack of a certain small blonde at Castle's side when he met her in front of the theater.

"Um, Castle? I think you forgot someone."

"I didn't forget," Castle replied. "Rue had to stay home--she's sick. She seemed kind of alarmed about it. I don't think she's ever been sick before or even knows much about it. But she's a trooper."

"Why didn't you text me? We could have rescheduled." Beckett tried not to let him see her discomfort.

"She begged me to go. She wanted us to have fun, and she said to tell her all about the movie."

A thought crossed Beckett's mind, but she quickly dismissed it. Rue was a sweet, innocent girl. The idea of deceiving someone wouldn't even occur to her, never mind how to go about it. She couldn't possibly have planned this.

…could she?

"C'mon, Castle," she said, resigned to her fate. "I want an extra large popcorn, and you're buying."

"Whatever you say, Detective," Castle said as he led her into the theater.

Despite the fact that Castle soon had her grudgingly laughing, Beckett resolved to talk to Rue herself this evening. Just to be sure.


	9. When, Not If

Castle couldn't have possibly heard her correctly. He stared, slack jawed, at the back of Rue's head.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"I say, when you give Kate ring, make it say 'always' on inside. You tell her 'always' all the time," Rue explained patiently. She didn't look up from the book she was slowly, laboriously, reading.

Castle was both flattered and dismayed when Rue had expressed her desire to read his books before any others. He had a feeling he'd have a lot of explaining to do once she'd finished his earlier works and started on the Nikki Heat series…

Fortunately, Rue was still stuck on chapter five of _Flowers_ _for_ _Your_ _Grave_ , and by the looks of things she wasn't going to be getting to the Derik Storm books anytime soon, never mind the Nikki Heat ones.

Castle's mind stopped wandering when it sank in that it wasn't his imagination--Rue had actually just told him to get Beckett a ring, and to have "always" inscribed on it.

Obviously, she was still feeling a little sick. Not only had she said that, she hadn't said 'if', she'd said…

"What do you mean 'when'?" Castle asked.

Rue still didn't look up from the book, squinting a trifle as she tried to figure out a long word. "I mean what word means."

"Don't you mean 'if'?" Castle asked.

Rue finally looked away from the book, looking at Castle like he was a particularly thickheaded child. "I know what I mean," she said, sounding both calm and infuriatingly stubbornly.

Castle made a mental note to inform Beckett just how much like her Rue was.

"When, not if," Rue stated again. She then turned back to her book.

Castle's phone rang. He smiled at the beautiful face of the caller ID and hit 'talk'.

"Thank goodness you called," he said, shooting a glance at Rue. "I was just avoiding an impromptu interrogation."

* * *

 

It always amazed Beckett that no matter how many people were around, Castle always fixed those intense blue eyes on her, gazing at her in a way that made her feel like the only girl in the room.

Like now. Despite the fact that they were in one of the swankiest and most exclusive nightclubs--filled to the brim with supermodel-worthy women, distracting lights and music that pounded into your very bones--Castle was walking towards her as if the room was silent and empty except for the two of them.

It made her entire body tingle, and she worked hard to keep her face carefully composed.

"Where's the body?" Castle asked.

"Back in the alley behind the club." Beckett said, trying to make herself heard over the pulsing beat of the music.

As they walked towards the door that led to the alley, Castle said something.

"What?" Beckett asked.

"I said that Rue has this weird concept of possibilities," Castle repeated.

"What do you mean?" Beckett asked. Castle put a hand gently on the small of her back, guiding her through the throng of gyrating people. His warmth, and his touch, sent a shiver up her spine and made her lick her lips.

"She never says 'if'. She always says 'when'. Like 'when Alexis gets into Stanford'," Castle explained. He (fortunately) seemed unaware of the effect he was having on her. "She never uses the word 'if', even when she's talking about something that's only a possibility."

They had moved out into the alley, where the music was less audible and they were able to speak in normal tones.

"Maybe it's because she has such faith in either the person or the event that she feels it's inevitable that it will happen," Beckett suggested.

"I suppose," Castle agreed. Beckett suspected that there was something about it that he wasn't telling her, but she let it slide. After all, they had a body to deal with, and a murder to solve.

* * *

 

Beckett was spending an awful lot of time over at Castle's place lately. At first it was only during the day, but then one time she'd stayed to have a movie marathon with Rue and Alexis and ended up bunking it on the couch after falling asleep. That had led to a discussion with Castle as to whether or not she should spend the night sometimes for Rue's sake--the girl's violent night terrors were starting to worry them.

"What side of the bed do you want? Right or left?" He'd joked.

"Very funny, Castle. I'll be fine on the couch."

"Beckett, how can you expect me to allow you to sleep on my couch when there's a lovely king-sized bed at your disposal? I'll just rough it whenever you come over." Castle had looked horrified at the very idea of Beckett taking the couch.

"Castle, I am not making you give up your room for my sake," she had responded. She'd done her best to avoid thinking about ways that she could have the bed without Castle giving up his room, but she tried not to dwell on it. Judging by the intense light in his blue eyes, Castle was thinking along the same lines.

In the end, Beckett ended up sharing a bed with Rue. It had started out as an accident--Beckett had fallen asleep while cuddling Rue after a nightmare. But upon seeing how peacefully Rue slept in Beckett's presence, she'd just started sharing the bed with the girl at night.

Honestly, it felt good. Rue would curl up into a little ball and let Beckett hold her and stroke her hair. A lot of times they would talk until Rue started to drift away into slumber. Sometimes Rue would just cry, body-wracking sobs that shook the bed as she buried herself into Beckett and clutched at her. Beckett didn't like the nightmares, but she liked being able to help Rue. She liked talking to her, and she liked holding the girl in her arms, keeping her safe.

It was one of those times when Rue was feeling talkative that Beckett discovered the "quirk" that Castle had mentioned.

They had been talking about dating. Rue was discovering that she found boys rather attractive, and the myriad of feelings and sensations she was beginning to experience alarmed her. Beckett answered her questions and explained as best she could. Eventually, however, Rue's questions became more personal as she asked Beckett about her love life and history.

"Rue, it's perfectly natural for you to feel this way. Alexis is actually going through the same thing you are. I went through it when I was your age as well. Over time you learn to recognize when it's just your body wanting something, and when you actually care for someone."

"Like you and Castle?" Rue asked innocently.

Beckett stiffened, feeling like she'd been sucker punched.

"What do you mean?" She asked carefully.

"You love Castle. Do you also have the… urges, as you say?" Rue asked.

Beckett was beginning to feel like she'd been duped into this conversation. "Rue, that's really none of your business."

"When you stop pretending nothing there, let me know," Rue said calmly, imitating a phrase she had undoubtedly picked up from either that damn television or a certain damn writer.

"It's none of your business what I feel for Castle," Beckett said as sternly as she could.

"So you feel for Castle?" Rue pounced on her use of words.

Beckett nearly groaned with exasperation. "I don't want to talk about it," she said, effectively turning the tables on Rue. They had taught her that phrase to be used as an 'out' whenever Rue's memories were too fresh or too horrible for her to discuss. Both Castle and Beckett had emphasized that Rue used that phrase only when she really meant it, and not to use it flippantly. By using that phrase in turn, Beckett knew that Rue would back off.

That didn't mean that Rue wouldn't try another tactic, though.

"Why you talk me if make you uncomfortable?" Rue asked.

Beckett hugged the girl affectionately. "Because that's what mothers do with their daughters. They have to talk to them about these things, so that their daughters can grow from girls to women."

She could feel Rue frowning in thoughtfulness. "So, you practice with me to do with daughter when you marry C–- when you marry?"

Rue's quick cutoff had not escaped Beckett, but she let it slide. She was too busy trying to banish the wedding march and white dresses from her mind. Then the rest of what Rue had said sank in.

Beckett kissed the top of Rue's head, smoothing the soft blonde hair. "I'm not practicing to be a mother, Rue. I already have a daughter. I have you."

Rue's body began to shake, and Becket propped herself up on her elbows. She was shocked to see that Rue was crying. "Rue, are you okay?" She asked.

Rue nodded. "I cry because I happy," she whispered. "I so happy. Heart too big."

Beckett understood. She kissed Rue again and held the girl tight, smiling into the darkness. "I'm happy too, Rue. I'm so happy that I have you. We have you."

"We family?" Rue asked. "Alexis and Martha and Castle and you and me?"

"Yes." Beckett tried not to think about the implications. "Yes, Rue; we're your family."

Rue snuggled happily, burrowing herself into the blankets and pillows, and slowly drifted off. But Beckett stayed awake, that small word circling around in her head.

_When you stop pretending…_

_When you stop…_

_When…_

_When, not if…_

What made Rue so certain that it was going to happen that she used the word "when", not "if"?

* * *

 

It had been a long day.

Castle fell and stumbled into his apartment rather than walked in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

Let's see… first there was the body drop. Then the investigation, which had them trotting all over town. Then they had each been forced to chase after suspects no less than three times. Then there was the hard-on he'd gotten after an innuendo-filled joking session between Ryan, Esposito, and himself had ended with Beckett making a highly suggestive remark before sauntering off with her hips swaying seductively. Or maybe they weren't swaying seductively, per se, but just swinging and he'd tacked on the adjective because of how damn hot she was, with those double entendres pouring from her soft, expressive lips.

Unfortunately, such occurrences were frequent, and Castle would be forced to think about dead puppies or Mother in the nightgown she'd worn for that campy adaption of The Merry Wives of Windsor set in the 1960s in order to calm down Rick Jr.

So between the running, traipsing all over town, lack of food (whoops, they'd forgotten to eat), and the hard-on, Castle was wiped. It almost made him long for paperwork.

He opened his eyes, and that's when he noticed the soft glow. Mother was who-knows-where doing things he'd rather not think about and Alexis was having a sleepover at Paige's house (he'd  _known_  that 'I'm too big for sleepovers' speech was garbage!), so it must be…

"Rue?" Castle called out.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what she was doing.

Rue had found his secret file on Joanna Beckett's murder, the dirty cops, Montgomery, Lockwood, and everything else pertaining to that case. She had it up on the projector, and was carefully scrutinizing details.

No one had found that file. Not his protective, nosy mother, not his highly intelligent and driven daughter, not even Beckett. But Rue had. Dear, darling, suspicious Rue, who had lived in a world where paranoia kept you alive, had found the file.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the how and why. Just a writer. Castle knew Rue had shown an interest in his computer, and while naïve she was not dumb. She must've gotten on and started playing around, snooping as she began to figure things out. She wouldn't have known that it was snooping, or realized that she was invading his personal space; at least, not at first. She would have known to avoid anything that had to do with his writing, and perhaps surfed the internet. Then, a file would have caught her eye. Seeing the name would have intrigued her. She would have clicked on it, and eventually figured out that it was meant to be viewed on the projector.

"I see you found my secret file," he said, trying to joke.

Rue's face did not leave her work. "Play on computer. Learning what things do. Find something; name 'Kate's Birthday Present'."

Rue looked up at him, the glow from the projector and the computer added to her sweet expression to make her look like some kind of angel. "Code-name, yes?" She asked.

Castle nodded. "Yes."

"Not really birthday present, then," Rue said. They'd explained the concept of birthdays to her, and even allowed her to pick what day she wanted as her birthday. Rue had eventually decided on the day that Castle and Beckett had become her guardians, as it felt like she'd been born into a new life. The thought still touched Castle whenever he thought of it.

"Well, it would be a gift to her, to find out the truth and finally be able to move on with her life," he said slowly.

Rue nodded. "I not move on if he still alive."

Castle didn't have to ask who "he" was.

"I named it that because that way, if anyone went looking, they'd think it was just a quick little project I was doing. I don't want anyone to find out, especially anyone hired by whoever was holding onto Lockwood's leash. If they thought… it was…"

Castle trailed off as he realized that, while what was projected on the screen was still his 'project', it was different. There were people moved around, certain things circle, and various notes that had certainly not been there before. He looked over at Rue, who was calmly typing away, using her pointer fingers and silently sounding out the words as she went along.

"Uh, Rue… did you change anything?" Castle asked, stepping over to get a closer look. She'd put up pictures of various people, and organized them into groups with brief notes…

Rue looked up at the screen. "My life… my life very bad before you and Kate," she said, slowly. "Never want go back. But I learn things in old life. One thing I learn power."

She took a deep breath before continuing, struggling to use her limited vocabulary to make Castle understand. "Kate tell me all about mother. I learn more from file. Person who find bad cops, person who pay Lockwood… he powerful. He want bad cop money, long time ago; now he powerful. Powerful, but no can let people hear of work with bad cops."

She pointed at the people on the projection screen. "These people, Alexis teach me about them. They powerful, but need people to think them good. Or they lose power. I research people, find out people that might have been with bad cops. People that can get people like Lockwood."

Gazing at the information on the projection screen, Castle began to understand what Rue was trying to explain. She'd researched various people in powerful offices, both business and political, in New York City--she'd even gone and researched those in the state and Washington, D.C. She'd managed to discover everything from their biographies and previous campaigns to their financials and kid's schools.

"Who knew you could be such a professional web surfer?" Castle muttered wonderingly.

Rue gave him a perplexed look, and then went back to what she was doing. Personally, Castle was amazed that he hadn't thought of it before. It all made sense--the person had used the dirty cops' money, information and connections to rise to power, and was now in a very powerful, but very precarious, position. A position that meant they had to silence anyone who might bring the truth to light, and the power to do it. Who better occupied that position then politicians?

Castle's brain started going a mile a minute. He'd have to find a way to get the information that he needed--conjecture wasn't going to do it. If he was going to get Kate involved in this, he would have to be 100% sure that they could get the guy behind bars before he allowed her to go down that path again. If she went down it, raging like the Furies from Greek legend, and there was no closure in the end… Castle refused to let her come so close and have it yanked away. Not again.

He looked over at Rue, her face deadly serious, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Why are you going to all this trouble?" He asked.

Rue looked up at him, her face morphing into that angry stone face he'd seen at the hospital with Alexis…

"Someone hurt Kate. Nobody allowed hurt Kate. We stop them. We make them pay."

Castle nodded, slowly. "I see."

Rue gestured at the screen. "You hunt bad man because you love Kate."

Castle nodded. There was no use pretending with Rue--she would see right through him, anyway. The girl had even thought he'd get Kate a ring.

"I love Kate. I want stop bad man too," Rue said. She paused, and then glanced from the screen to Castle. "When we catch Joanna's killer…" She said, hesitantly, "When it all over for Kate… then you tell her? Then you tell her you love her?"

Castle's mouth was suddenly very dry, and he had to swallow several times before he was able to speak.

"Yes, Rue," he said. "When Kate finally has closure, I'll tell her."

"Promise?" Rue asked.

Castle nodded. "I promise."

It was only when he was lying in bed that he realized Rue had said "when". Like she really believed that one day, Joanna Beckett's murder would be solved and Kate Beckett could finally lay aside that part of her and move on. Let down those carefully constructed walls and open her heart to someone; to him.

Castle honestly wished he had Rue's conviction, her faith that it would work out, that they would prevail. As it was, he could only wait, and hope.

* * *

 

Beckett stripped, peeling off her sweaty clothes. It had been long, hard day at the precinct, between the various interrogations and having to chase down three of the suspects. Seeing the look on Castle's face when she'd made that comment, though… that made her day.

Even from the beginning, she'd loved the fact that she could wreck havoc with his hormones like that. One comment or look and his face would just freeze as he tried to a) process what she'd said, and b) keep his body under control. She loved the power it had given her, the feeling of it. What woman wouldn't?

Of course, now she had to deal with the fact that he turned her on just as much she turned him on; and, strangely, it was often when he wasn't trying to be flirty at all. She'd noticed how he'd tried to tone down the quips and innuendos lately, and she knew it wasn't just because he was on shaky ground with Captain Gates. Beckett appreciated the effort, she really did, but…

She turned on the hot water for the bath. She didn't get the chance to relax like this very often, but when she did she took full advantage of it. No quick shower to scrub off the grime of the workday--Kate Beckett was going to treat herself to a delicious bubble bath, accompanied by a glass of wine and a good book.

Typically, that good book was written by a certain annoying author…

Damn.

Damn him to Hell.

Why couldn't she keep him out of her thoughts? Just for an hour or so? Just long enough for her to enjoy her well-deserved bath?

As she slid into the tub, Beckett's thoughts drifted back to the murder in the alley behind the nightclub. It was the most exclusive nightclub in NYC--everyone knew that. But she was certain that Castle could get in. Could get  _them_  in, as in, she and Castle together.

Beckett sipped her wine and considered this idea. She imagined what it would be like, to go clubbing with Castle. He'd know all the best spots, all the places to hit. They'd have fun, dancing and drinking and laughing. She'd wear a tight but tasteful dress; something dark to contrast her eyes, and that drew attention to her skin.

Castle would appreciate it, of course. He'd pull her to the dance floor, wrapping one hand tightly around her waist. She'd feel adventurous, loving the way his blue eyes smoldered at the feel of her body pressed tightly to his. She'd grind a little, wiggling her hips in a way that would make his eyes darken. His hand would slowly make its way down her back until it cupped her butt. He'd give it a squeeze, just enough to make her gasp. Then his hands would lightly trail up her thighs, making her skin tingle at the contact. He'd push up the fabric of her dress and brush the tips of his fingers against her moist heat, making her bite back a moan. He'd grin wolfishly, his eyes darkening even more as he realized she'd gone commando.

That would be when his grin would transform into that impish one that always meant he'd had one of his stupid ideas… and that he was going to act on it. Before she had a chance to react, he'd begin working on her clit, rolling it with his thumb, before pushing two fingers into her.

She would gasp and moan, burying her face into his shoulder, hungrily planting kisses on his neck in an attempt to not attract attention with her groans. They'd battle for dominance with their tongues, not really caring who one but just for the sake of the passion stirring within them. She'd hook one leg around his waist to give him better access, grinding into his hand as he pumped.

As her passion coiled tight in her chest like a loaded spring, he'd grab her hair and pull her head back to nibble and suck at her pulse point, growling in satisfaction when he felt how erratic he'd made her heartbeat. She'd press herself to him, trying to get as close as possible, whimpering at the feelings shooting through her like tongues of fire.

When she climaxed, the spring shooting off a spiral of pleasure through her like nothing she'd ever known, she'd practically climb Castle with the intensity, burying her face into him to try and stifle her cries. But she wouldn't be able to stifle it enough for him not to realize that she was screaming his name.

He'd let her down, gently, sucking her juices from his fingers in a way that turn her on all over again. She'd devour his mouth with hers, tasting the salty sweetness of herself along with his unique flavor, a taste as intoxicating as wine.

Seeing her disheveled hair, her smeared makeup, and not least of all the condition she was in, he'd do the gentlemanly thing and suggest he take her home. She'd agree, because the moment she got him alone she was going to make him do things that were very  _un_ gentlemanly.

They'd go back to her apartment, the space between her legs tingling and the slightest brush of her dress fabric against her nipples making her bite back groans. She would make it as far as the elevator before she would snap. Pressing herself against him, forcing him against the back wall of the elevator, she'd grind against him, panting and pressing open mouth kisses to his neck as she worked her way down his body, nearly pulling off his shirt in her haze of lust.

Although initially taken aback, he would be eager to do his share, massaging her breasts through her dress, pinching her hard nipples through the thin material, rolling and working them until they were hard enough to cut glass. Nearly frantic with need, she'd undo his belt and snaps, grabbing his manhood and stroking it, trying to drive him wild.

It would work, of course. She knew she could drive him crazy like no one else. With a deep groan that made his chest vibrate deliciously, he'd hoist her up onto him, flipping them so that she was the one pinned to the wall.

"In my wallet," he'd growl against her ear as he kissed and licked her to distraction.

She'd fumble for a minute before extracting it and finding the desired item. "Hold still… if you can," she'd whisper huskily as she rolled the condom over him. The sensation would make his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he'd enter her smoothly, making her whimper and close her eyes at the sensation. She'd wrap her legs around his waist, and they'd quickly find a rhythm, with him kneading her thighs and ass as he pumped into her.

They'd pick up speed, tiny colored lights flashing before her closed lids as she bucked wildly against him, and oh goodness she had never felt anything so good in her life, if she could only make it last just a little longer…

He'd pump one, two, three more times before losing it completely, and she'd cry out his name while he screamed hers.

While the feeling of release would be amazing, the best climax she'd ever had, neither of them would be satisfied. Quickly exiting the elevator, they'd stumble into her apartment as a tangle of limbs, clutching hands and nipping mouths.

"I just realized I'm dirty," she'd say, glancing down ruefully at her sweaty body.

"I already knew that," he'd joke, kissing her cleavage and making her pant.

"I meant…" She wouldn't be able to finish the sentence, because he'd start to really use that mouth of his on her breasts, and oh man, it shouldn't be legal for someone to be able to do those damn things with your clothes still on…

Feeling adventurous, she'd suggest that she needed to clean up. She'd laugh at the look on his face, like a puppy that had just watched its owner take away its favorite toy, but she'd then suggest he join her--in the bath--and those adorable blue eyes would light up like Christmas lights.

She'd run the bath, doing all the things she'd done tonight, but this time it would be different. There would be an added sensuality to it, because he was watching her with that dark, hungry look in his eyes. It was such a predatory look that it made her shiver in anticipation.

Stripping for him would be a good game in and of itself, torturing him with gazing but not touching her body. Finally he'd be unable to stand it, ripping off his clothes and pulling her to him, pressing her against him as he ran his talented hands over her curves and planting kisses along her collarbone and bare shoulder.

They'd step into the tub, the water deliciously hot and inviting, the scent of the couple candles she'd lit adding a light aroma that only added to the mood. He'd be surprisingly slow and sensual, taking time to touch and kiss every inch of her body, worshipping her with his mouth and hands.

And oh, was he ever a devout worshipper.

When they had finished exploring each other's bodies, making the other one writhe in pleasure, they'd racket up the passion from slow burn up to boiling.

"Protection?" He'd whisper, unsure.

"Birth control," she'd hiss back. "Now shut up and make me scream--if you can."

Ever one to rise to a challenge, he'd plunge into her, making the bathwater spill over the sides as their rocking and grinding made small waves. And he'd make her scream. Damn it, he'd make her scream so loudly her voice was hoarse. Her neighbors likely heard it and wondered why someone was yelling about medieval structures in the middle of the night. It was all right, though, because she made him as wild as he made her, and they came undone together.

They'd collapse, sated, in the tub, breathing heavily. Eventually he'd get enough strength back into his arms to lift himself up and roll off of her, making the water slosh around more. She'd relax into him, and they'd lie there, just like that, until the bathwater turned lukewarm and they got out. They'd dry each other off, joking and laughing, and finally climb into bed, stark naked.

He'd wrap his arms around her and pull her close, and she'd rest his head on her chest. They would murmur things to each other, teasing gently, until sleep claimed them and their murmurs died away into the velvet silence of the night.

Beckett gasped and groaned as her fingers worked, arching her back and grinding against herself as she imagined what it would be like. She imagined that she really was in the bath with Castle; that he was the one doing these things to her. She came to a shuddering climax, sucking in great gasps of air as her chest heaved. Her head sank back to rest along the edge of the tub, her legs trembling slightly with the power of her orgasm.

Damn, just imagining doing it with him sent her over the edge more quickly and powerfully then anything had before. She couldn't help but wonder, if he did this to her just by lurking in her thoughts, what he could do to her when he was literally naked over her, making her writhe under his touch? The thought was almost enough to make her come all over again.

Beckett got out of the bath quickly. She dried herself off, got into her pajamas, and climbed into bed. She couldn't afford to think about Castle this way. At the rate she was going, she was going to snap and end up fucking his brains out in the interrogation room at the precinct. The thought made her shudder.

She tried to think of something other than Castle, and her thoughts drifted over to Rue. She was so sweet, and thoughtful, and loving. And despite the uncertainty in which she'd lived her life, she had remarkable faith in things.

Like Beckett and Castle. The girl had said  _when_  for crying out loud. Like it was a foregone conclusion that someday Beckett and Castle would actually…

Why couldn't she say "if" like normal people?

But then, Rue wasn't normal. That was one of the things Beckett loved about her, after all.

_When, not if…_

How could she be so sure? How could she know them so well that she understood what was going to happen, what they couldn't help doing? How could she have such conviction about something that both exhilarated and terrified Beckett, something that she'd hardly dared to dream about?

_When…_

_When, not if…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, my first attempt at anything resembling smut. I hope it's not too cringe-worthy. Ah, if only I could go back in time and talk to my seventeen-year-old self...


	10. That Last Inch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. So, so sorry.

Sometimes it's the tiniest things that can create the biggest changes. Other times there's all this build up, all these life changing events and, in the end, it's a small, almost insignificant thing that's what puts it all into perspective or sends you over the edge. Like the last inch between the rooftop and the empty sky, the last inch between falling, staying grounded, or even… flying.

If Beckett were to be completely honest, she'd never taken that last inch. She'd never covered the final, tiny piece of ground needed to go all the way in what mattered most: the matters of the heart. It seemed so inconsequential didn't it? So small, so tiny, so insignificant… ridiculous, even. But there it was.

What Rue had said just wouldn't leave her head, though. It wasn't the first time Beckett had masturbated to images of Castle in her head, pretending it was his hand or his cock or his mouth inside her, rather than her own fingers. It wasn't the first time she'd gasped his name. Hell, she'd even imagined it was him during the heat of sex with Josh. She'd never intend to, but then his face would just flash before her eyes and she'd have to concentrate like hell to make sure she didn't yell out his name as she came. Honestly, sometimes it was the only reason she even got off while with Josh.

But now, she couldn't compartmentalize it. She couldn't shove those urges into a tiny corner of her mind along with the rest of her Castle-related thoughts, safely locked away. It was starting to bleed into everything; everything she did made her think of him. And while she'd written off her feelings as lust mingled with simple friendship for years, she was having an extremely difficult time denying it now.

It was all because of Rue. All because the girl had been so  _certain_  that one day, Beckett and Castle would be together. She hadn't even said it stubbornly or persuasively, because that would have suggested that there were forces against it. It was going to happen, no matter what, so why bother fighting it? It simply  _was_ , the way the sun rose in the east.

That scared Beckett. It scared her more than she cared to admit. Ever since her mother's death, she'd been scared of opening up to people, of letting them in and sharing herself and her life with them. Now, it was starting to look like she'd already shared all of that with Castle without even meaning to.

He had gotten in. It was time to admit it. Castle had gotten past her armor, past the carefully constructed wall she'd meticulously built up. And she hadn't even done anything. She hadn't built a doorway or constructed a drawbridge or anything like that; he'd just taken a battering ram and hammered down those walls whether she liked it or not.

It annoyed her to no end that she did, in the end, like it, despite the monstrous fight she'd put up.

Slowly, inches at a time, Beckett was beginning to understand that she loved him. She loved Richard Edgar Castle--no, make that Richard Alexander Rodgers. Behind the witty words he penned, behind the playboy persona, even behind the gleeful nine-year-old that was still fully alive and active within him, there was that serious, caring, thoughtful, intelligent, and oh so sexy man that she had fallen in love with. It wasn't a sudden falling, like plunging out of a plane to go skydiving. It was… soft, and slow, like floating gently downwards.

Beckett realized that she would only last so long before she slipped up. Castle already suspected that she remembered more than she was telling about when she'd been shot at Montgomery's funeral. He might not think that she remembered everything, but he definitely had suspicions. Eventually she'd either let something slip or snap completely and scream it at him. And she couldn't do that.

If only she didn't want him so badly. If only she didn't ache for him, for his touch, for his smile, his eyes, his body and his mind and God help her, his very soul. She wanted him, every bit of him, and she wanted to give him every piece of her. Hell, she already belonged to him. She just had to tell him so--she knew he wouldn't do anything without her permission. All she had to do was give him that permission.

It was such a tiny thing, permission. She knew that he was hers for the taking, and she was his, but she couldn't do it.

She just couldn't make that last step.

Take that last inch.

* * *

 

Rue stood in the shower, letting the water run over her. She adored taking baths but they were really just for relaxation. She preferred taking showers to actually get herself clean.

She remembered when she'd first taken a shower, at the precinct. Kate had taken her to the locker room and stood guard while she cleaned herself. Kate had shown her how. Rue had been amazed at how the dirt and grime that covered her body had vanished, leaving gleaming pink skin that she hadn't seen in years. Her hair went from a dark, dirty color of an obscure nature (the closest color match she'd found on the color wheel was a mustard-brown mix) to a ripe-wheat-colored blonde. It was both fascinating and disturbing (vomit-inducing disturbing) to watch the red, brown and black ribbons of water swirl down the drain.

She had scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, until her skin stung a little. But even though she felt clean, so clean her hair squeaked when she rubbed it, she couldn't get some things off of her skin. Certain strange markings, lines that puckered her skin, thin red lines, pale tight lines, and oddly shaped blemishes, all stained and marred her skin. Finally she'd hurried, naked and dripping wet, over to Kate. Kate had seemed alarmed at first but calmed when she saw how Rue was pointing to the marks and lines.

As calmly as she could, Kate had gripped Rue's hands gently and explained to her that those were scars. They wouldn't ever go away. Rue had panicked, and cried, and been rather hysterical. Kate had calmed her down, dried her off, and got her dressed. Then Kate had shown Rue her own scars.

There was the mark on her elbow from when she'd been riding her bike up the street and sped down a steep hill. She'd let go of the bike and put her hands up, whooping. Then the bike had wobbled. Before Kate could react, the bike skidded, and Kate had scraped up her entire left side and completely ruined the watch she was wearing on her left wrist. She'd healed up, except for the scar on her elbow.

Rue had giggled hearing some stories, and winced during others. When Kate had told her about the sniper shot, Rue had just stared, fascinated. She'd lightly traced the scar, looking up at Kate questioningly. How on earth had Kate survived?

It had pained Kate to tell her, although she'd tried to act like it was nothing. But she'd told her. She'd trusted Rue enough to tell her. Rue had trusted Kate and had told her everything, and it was in that moment that she knew the trust was mutual.

Stepping out of the shower, Rue examined herself in the mirror. She was okay looking. Rue didn't really care how she looked, generally speaking. She always thought she looked nice, as long as she was clean and wearing proper clothing. Anything looked nice compared to what she'd looked like before. Those scars, though…

They marked her. They reminded her of things she'd rather forget. But Kate had told her to wear those marks with pride.

"They made you who you are, Rue," Kate had assured her. "You can choose to wear them with fear, or wear them with pride. You survived, Rue. You made it through and you survived. Those scars prove it. They're a badge of honor, Rue, a medal that no one  _gave_  you--it's a medal that you  _earned_."

So Rue did her best to ignore them.

She gently ran a finger along one of the lines on her arm. The skin tingled where she'd touched it. She sighed.

Rue was beginning to understand measurement, and she knew about feet and inches. She felt like she'd been moving forward inches at a time, slowly but surely learning and growing. But although the nightmares came less frequently, although she was getting better at speaking, although she was adjusting, there were still things she couldn't fully move on with.

She couldn't go that last inch just yet.

* * *

 

Castle was surprised, to say the least, when Beckett stopped by unannounced. She didn't call or text beforehand, and it certainly wasn't normal for her to just stop by, even now that she was over so often because of Rue. She always scheduled when she'd come by. She never just dropped in.

Of course, her timing was impeccable. That is, she'd chosen the worst possible moment to stop by his loft. He was alone--Mother was at her acting school, Alexis was having lunch with some friends and Rue was at the museum--and he'd been thinking about… well, here she was in the flesh.

He'd been musing about the journey humans take through life. The ultimate journey being life itself, of course, but there were smaller journeys to be made along the way. Those journeys were not made in leaps and bounds, as Hollywood liked to make out. Yes, there were breakthroughs and moments of clarity, epiphanies and times when you had a knock-down drag-out fight with life and came out battered and bruised. But more often journeys were made with baby steps.

Like the one he'd taken with Beckett. Castle couldn't pinpoint the moment he fell in love with her, but he supposed he'd been gradually falling in love with her this entire time. He'd felt attracted to her from the beginning, and it had only intensified as time went on--but it wasn't until about halfway through their third year together that he'd admitted (to himself, at night, while sitting at his desk), what his subconscious had been screaming at him forever: he was in love with the woman.

Everything that had happened since then had only solidified and intensified that love. The kiss outside the warehouse--he'd replayed that over and over in his mind for a week, remembering the sweet taste of her lips and mouth, how it had felt to finally, finally run his fingers through her hair, and how they were both so hungry for each other that they were as messy and uncoordinated as two teenagers. The day they'd ended up in decontamination for possible radiation poisoning and shared a moment until some idiot interrupted them. When they'd nearly died in that frozen crate, with her in his arms. When they'd stood together, hand in hand, staring down death in the form of a dirty bomb, and he'd drank in the last thing he'd ever see--her beautiful, beautiful face--and resolved he would not die without at least trying to save her. So, of course, he'd yanked out every damn wire in the stupid thing. They had to yank out one wire, so why not yank out all of them? Right? It had worked that time, at any rate.

Now he was stuck in the awful position of I-tell-her-I-tell-her-not, his entire emotional happiness hanging in limbo while he tried desperately to hold Kate back. He had to hold her back. It was to keep her safe--because God strike him dead if he failed.

_Kate…_  God, how he wanted to call her that. Not 'Beckett', or even 'Detective', but  _Kate_. More and more often, he was calling her that in his mind. He enjoyed calling her Beckett, but he wanted so badly to call her by her first name, to whisper it in her ear, to enjoy it as a symbol that she welcomed him into her heart and her life.

The human journey was made in inches, though, and she had not permitted him to move forward that inch yet.

The first move was always hers to make. He refused to do anything until permission had been given. He'd already run roughshod over all her other boundaries and rules. He would let the last step be hers to allow him. But hell if he didn't want to just claim that last inch himself…

So now, interrupting his agonizing over things he couldn't act upon and therefore shouldn't be thinking about at all, was Kate. No; Beckett. Ugh.

"Surprised to see me, Castle?" She quipped, walking in. Her heeled boots made clip-clip noises on the hard floor.

"Surprised doesn't mean I'm not pleased. To what do I owe this visit, Detective? Rue's out at the museum today. Can you believe she can go by herself now?" He was dangerously close to rambling, and he knew it.

Beckett drew a deep breath. "I think I'm being stalked."

Whatever Castle was expecting, it sure wasn't that.

"What?"

Beckett drew out a piece of paper and handed it to him. It was a letter. Castle did his best to take in as few words as possible, because he was extremely close to punching something at the very idea of someone stalking Beckett. If he took in enough of what the person had written, he'd most likely break something and, with his track record, whatever he broke would be something that Mother particularly liked.

Fortunately, it wasn't from whoever was responsible for ordering Beckett shot. The person addressed the letter to "Nikki," for one thing. It became apparent that it was a huge fan… a huge fan whose crush on "Nikki" had gotten a little out of hand.

"He threatens to make you his permanently," Castle said slowly. "Well if that isn't cliché, I don't know what is."

"Well, you're the expert," Beckett replied. When she saw the injured look on his face, she laughed. "On writing in general, Castle, I didn't mean you wrote clichés."

"Good. I was starting to worry," he quipped, but his heart wasn't in it. Someone was threatening Beckett. His hands clenched the offending piece of paper until it threatened to tear.

"Castle you might want to lessen your grip on that letter there; I'll need it intact to take it in as evidence," Beckett said. She had just stretched out a hand for the letter when…

"Hands in the air, beautiful," someone drawled.

Beckett froze, and Castle saw the anger flash in her eyes. They gazed at each other for a frozen moment before Beckett raised her hands above her head. Castle followed suit, slowly pivoting to face their assailant.

"Wow… you're even more beautiful up close…" The man's eyes were on the edge of wild as he stared at Beckett.

Castle growled low in his throat. This lowlife jerk had no right even speaking to Beckett, never mind saying things like that to her.

"Get on your knees," the man said. He used his gun to gesture at Castle. "You too, pretty boy."

"What do you want?" Beckett asked slowly, even though both she and Castle already knew.

"Why, Nikki…" the man breathed, and Castle fought the urge to bash the man's head in, "I want you."

"Sir, I'm…" Beckett's firm voice trailed off as she looked behind the madman.

Castle followed her gaze, and his heart leapt into his mouth. One thought suddenly filled his brain, consuming all else.

_Don't do it…_

* * *

 

Rue tripped up the stairs to her home. She knew it would be less effort to take the elevator, especially after all the walking she'd done that day, but the elevator still made her nervous. It was a small, confined space that could break down and trap her at any minute. Yes, the elevator definitely made her nervous.

She couldn't wait to talk to Castle and tell him all about the things she'd learned at the museum today. She'd started out in the Egyptian wing and…

Rue paused just before Castle's front door. It was open slightly. Whoever had closed it hadn't used enough force to allow the door to move that last inch and shut. Through it she could hear someone, some unknown voice, talking to Castle.

"Wow… you're even more beautiful up close…" the voice said.

Rue frowned. She didn't think the voice would address Castle as "beautiful". Alexis wasn't home yet, which Rue knew for a fact because she'd just spoken with her on the phone. Martha was out, so that meant the person was talking to…

Silently, Rue put down her purse. Silently, she opened the door, just enough to see inside.

Her heart stopped.

A man had his back to her, and was pointing a gun at Castle and Kate, who were kneeling on the floor. The breath seemed to have been sucked out of Rue's chest, and for a moment she just stood there, frozen. Then her heart remembered it had a job to do and sped up, pumping frantically.

That man was going to hurt Castle and Kate.

Nobody hurt Castle and Kate.

_Nobody._

Rue stepped into the apartment.

* * *

 

No, no, no,  _no_. This couldn't be happening. First the letter, then this delusional asshole, and now Rue in danger? Could the day get any worse?

Apparently it could, because Rue was silently creeping up on the man.

_No, Rue, no!_

She had to get out. She had to turn around and leave, and call the cops. She had to get out of this mess.

_Don't do it, Rue. Don't do it._

Beckett could hardly breathe. She forced herself to look away from Rue and at the man pointing a gun at her. If she looked at Rue, the man might follow her gaze. She didn't want to think about what he'd do if he saw the girl.

The man starting ranting about something, but Beckett couldn't hear him. Her heart was thumping in her ears as, out of her peripheral vision, she saw Rue creeping closer, and closer…

* * *

 

There were unexpected advantages to being raised by a serial killer.

One of them was that you learned how to move with absolute silence.

Rue crouched down like a predator waiting to pounce and moved towards the man, keeping herself out of his line of vision. She made absolutely no sound--not even her breathing could be heard.

She knew she had one shot. If she messed this up, the man could hurt Castle and Kate. Rue couldn't bear for that to happen.

She waited until she was directly behind him, and flexed her fingers. She crouched down even further, preparing herself. She had to grab the gun and tackle him in one move. She could do this.

Rue felt the coils of her muscles tightening. She was going to take this bastard down.

One more inch, just one last inch, and she'd be close enough.

* * *

 

"Rue, no!"

Beckett's cry came just a second too late.

The expression on Rue's face when she leaped was like nothing Castle had ever seen from the girl. The angry, stony expression when she'd talked about the purse-snatcher was a pale shadow compared to what was on her face now.

Castle was pretty sure the half growl, half yell she'd given when she jumped the guy was involuntary. It only added to the feral tiger look.

Her jump was perfect. Rue and the man went crashing into the floor, rolling over each other as they grappled for the gun. Rue ended up on top, both hands around the gun, trying to tug it away. Beckett leapt to her feet just as the gun went off.

Rue didn't stop moving, punching the man repeatedly in the face, until his face and her shirt were splattered with blood. Castle remembered that he had arms and legs that were in perfect working condition, and he pulled Rue off of the man just as Beckett wrenched the gun from both of them and tossed it aside, rolled the guy over and cuffed him.

As Beckett went through the usual Miranda Rights routine, Castle held Rue in his lap. "You really hit hard--you've got the guy's blood all over you."

Rue looked down at her shirt. Castle looked as well, and realized that something was wrong. A cold sick feeling spread through his stomach as he realized that the blood blossoming on Rue's chest was not from the bastard's face… that it was too much, and spreading too quickly, soaking everywhere…

Quickly, Castle lay Rue down in his arms. Her face was pale, and she was trying desperately to keep her breathing slow and even. Castle hadn't even thought about the gunshot, but realized it must've hit Rue right in the chest…

Castle quickly took off his jacket and pressed it to the wound. Rue's entire shirt was covered in blood now, staining the blue. As he tried to stop more blood from leaking out, Castle thought of how that inch, just that last inch; one inch to the right or left and the bullet would have gone wide or been non-lethal. But it had hit her squarely, and now Rue was fighting to breathe.

Beckett hurried over and bent over Rue. Rue reached for her with a trembling hand, and Beckett caught it and held it to her.

"You're going to be okay, Rue. We're going to get you out of this," she whispered. Her eyes were bright and moist.

Still holding Rue's hand, Beckett pulled out her phone and called paramedics. Castle could barely register what she was saying. His entire world had narrowed down to the girl in his arms, trembling and trying to stifle her panic.

When Beckett put down her phone, Rue opened her mouth a couple times to speak. It took her a minute, but she finally managed to get the words out.

"After… I die… where do I go?" She asked, her voice just a whisper.

Beckett looked like she was choking on her own tears. "You get to be with Kale," she said, hoarsely.

"But you won't be going anywhere just yet," Castle said. "Stay with us, Rue. Just hold on a little longer."

Rue's acceptance of things had always startled him, but the acceptance in her eyes now only filled him with a cold heard dread. "I go be with Kale," she whispered. "But see you all again someday, yes?"

Beckett nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, that's it," she assured her.

"Okay."

So she would be with Kale. That wouldn't be so bad. She would have lots of fun with Kale and others while she waited for Kate and Castle and Alexis and Martha. Maybe she'd even get to watch them. That would be nice.

There was a strangely cold feeling spreading through her body. At first she hadn't felt anything, and then she'd felt this pain beyond anything punching her in the gut and holding itself there. After the pain, however, was a numbness that was currently taking hold of her limbs and making them so heavy, so cold…

Kate and Castle were bending over her, and their faces were so sad… she didn't want to see them sad. She wanted to see them happy and smiling; that's how she wanted to remember them. But even though their eyes were blurring with tears she could still see the love shining through.

Kate was squeezing Rue's hand, and Castle was stroking her hair gently. Rue felt a curious feeling stealing over her--it was almost like sleep, but not quite. She struggled to make her mouth move and form words. If she'd thought talking was difficult before, it was nothing compared to now.

"I sorry," she whispered. "I no listen Kate."

Kate smiled gently, and made a strange sobbing noise. "It's okay, Rue. It's okay. I would have done the same thing."

"Nobody hurt you," Rue whispered. "Nobody hurt people I love."

"We know, baby. We know," Castle said soothingly.

"Please…" There was a blackness creeping into the edges of her vision now, and the coldness had taken over her chest so that she couldn't even feel the pain in her middle anymore. It was strangely calming and inviting, but Rue couldn't let it claim her. Not just yet.

Castle and Kate were leaning in, hanging on her every word.

"Please… please tell…" Rue looked straight into Castle's eyes.

Beckett looked at Castle, questioning, but Castle understood what Rue was saying. That was all that mattered.

"I love you," Rue said. She was speaking to both of them now. "Heart too full to tell. Best way is say I love you."

Kate and Castle nodded. "We love you too, Rue," Castle whispered. Kate was biting back her tears.

"I love you," Kate whispered, brushing Rue's hair out of her face.

It was okay now. Castle would tell Kate. He had promised. They knew that Rue loved them, and she knew they loved her. It was okay now.

The blackness was growing on her, inch by inch, but Rue held it back. The sounds, the feel, the smell, the taste… it was all fading, even her awareness of herself. Everything but these two people. Rue waited, framing them in her mind, this last picture. Kate and Castle. Castle and Kate.

Then she let go of that last inch.


	11. I Saw It

Rue's body stopped trembling.

Her hand stopped gripping Beckett's.

Her eyes dulled.

Her breath stopped, frozen in her chest.

Everything swirled and blurred as Beckett's reality seemed to crumble beneath her. Everything was a jumble of disjointed impressions and sensations.

The sound of her screaming wildly, her voice racketed by sobs.

The feel of someone's warm arms encircling her, holding her tightly.

The sight of Rue lying there dead on the floor.

The awful smell of sticky red blood, Rue's blood, all around.

It was all a whirl, like some kind of sick merry-go-round, until a scream cut through it all and everything zoomed painfully back into crystal-clear focus.

Beckett became aware that she was standing, wrapped in Castle's arms, her head resting on his chest but her eyes focused only on Rue. Or rather, what used to be Rue. The girl's limp, tiny body was being loaded onto an EMT stretcher by nameless, faceless paramedics. Alexis was standing in the doorway, her mouth open and eyes wide in horror as she watched the girl she'd come to love and view as a sister being carried, lifeless, away.

Castle released Beckett and opened his arms. Alexis dashed into them, crying loudly, questions tumbling out of her mouth as she desperately tried to make sense of what was happening. Castle was murmuring into Alexis' ear, and Beckett could only stand there in shock.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she react? Why couldn't she do something,  _anything_ , other than just stand there like an idiot and watch as the girl she'd loved as a daughter was taken away from her?

She looked over at Castle and she could see how he was barely struggling to hold on. He'd been brave for her, the way he was with Montgomery. He was being brave again for Alexis. But he'd just been sucker punched, just like she had, and he wouldn't be able to hold it in forever.

Beckett gently stepped forward and took Alexis, guiding her to the couch and putting her arms around her. She let Alexis cry on her shoulder and shot a look at Castle. He just gazed at her for a moment, gratitude and something else Beckett didn't care to name shining in his eyes. Then he took off for the bathroom.

Beckett continued to hold Alexis, soothing the redhead while her own tears fell silently down her face. She couldn't hear anything from the bathroom, but when Castle re-emerged his face had red marks and his eyes looked a little bloodshot.

Castle spoke to the EMTs. They left alone. There was nothing to be done. Beckett was pretty sure the paramedics knew that the minute they walked in and saw the scene.

So she just held Alexis, and watched Castle watch them, and allowed her senses to drown in her grief.

* * *

 

Castle cried so hard his knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the sink. He wasn't loud. He didn't throw things around or yell, but just stood there over the sink and let his body wring as many tears from him as it could.

When he finally stopped shaking and was able to catch his breath, he splashed his face with cold water, dried himself off, and went to talk to the EMTs.

The paramedics left quickly; they would deliver the body to the morgue and Castle would be in charge of the arrangements from there.

The arrangements…

Oh God. The arrangements. Castle would have to work with Beckett on the funeral arrangements, true, but that wasn't what made him feel like tearing back into the bathroom again. It was the other arrangements--the ones he'd been planning to talk to Beckett about that day--that made his stomach tighten.

He stood, watching Beckett as she sat and held Alexis. The two girls cried together on his couch, and Castle couldn't hide the love he felt for them. Beckett looked up and their eyes locked, and he saw the pain in her eyes--pain and… something else? It was as if a curtain was raised behind her eyes, but Castle lacked Rue's eye-reading abilities and couldn't quite understand what he saw shining there.

The moment was a passing one. There was the madman to deal with, Esposito and Ryan to handle, Martha and Alexis to comfort, and in all the somber chaos Castle couldn't get a moment alone with Beckett.

Finally, after what felt like days but was only mere hours, they found themselves in Castle's living room. It was just the two of them--Alexis was in bed pretending to be asleep, Martha was out somewhere drowning her sorrows, and everyone else had gone home. It was just Castle and Beckett, staring at each other across the room.

Wordlessly, Castle took Beckett by the arm and led her into his study. He reached into a drawer and pulled out some papers, which he handed to her. Neither said a word. Beckett examined the papers for a minute, confusion chased away by realization and then, heartbreak. She laid the papers on the desk and looked up at him.

"Adoption papers," she said, as if it were an alien phrase. "You were looking into adopting her."

Castle nodded. "I was going to talk to you about it today, but then you showed up and that man came and…" He trailed off as the events of the day washed over him again, fresh and painful.

Beckett didn't know what to say. She wasn't the master of words that Castle was on any day of the week, but she wasn't usually left without something to say. Now, she found that her mind simply could not form any thought coherent enough to speak aloud.

The thought burst out of her, her mouth speaking them as soon as her mind thought them. "I saw it."

Castle looked at her, confused. "You saw what?"

"I saw it. That emotion, that pure language, in her eyes…" Beckett tried to explain herself. "Rue would always say that she could read eyes, that eyes had a language of their own. I could never read people's eyes that way, and I don't think that most people can--but Rue could. And when she was lying there, I could too, in that moment. I could see it. What she was always talking about. All the things she couldn't say, all the things she didn't have time to tell us… they were all there, in her eyes…"

Castle understood. He'd seen the same thing. "You can see what someone is thinking or feeling in their eyes--I know that I can do it only when I know the person very well or when the emotion is extremely strong--but Rue always knew exactly what we were thinking or feeling. Or what anyone was, for that matter."

Beckett looked at him gratefully. Castle pushed on.

"I saw it too, Beckett. I saw it. All she was feeling was love. Just this… this pure, powerful love…"

And then Beckett was in his arms, crying on his shoulder, burying her face into his chest, and he was holding her, and crying too, and squeezing her too him so tightly it hurt both of them.

They stayed like that, holding one another, for a long time.


	12. That's What She Said

Castle stood with his feet planted firmly in the grass, the cloudy weather matching the somber mood. He kept clenching and relaxing his hands deep in his coat pockets, where he'd hidden them. He didn't want anyone to see how close he was to coming undone.

He stood towards the head of the casket, apart from the others. He withdrew his hands from his coat as he quietly cleared his throat. Mother looked over at him expectantly, along with Ryan and Esposito. Lanie was too busy looking at Beckett, concern clear on the ME's face while Alexis was crying and alternating between looking at the ground and looking at Rue's coffin.

There were others there, as well, people from the precinct who'd helped Rue out while she was staying there--Gates was among them. Rue had made a lot of friends and touched a lot of people. But now, there was only one face Castle needed to see.

Beckett slowly raised her eyes from where she'd been staring fixedly at the coffin, until they locked onto Castle. They gazed at each other for one moment, just a beat or two, but it was enough. Castle found the strength he needed.

"I want to thank you all for coming today. Rue was a very special girl, and I know that she touched a lot of you with her many amazing qualities. I'm sure that… that she would be very happy to see you all here, and to know how much you care."

He glanced again at Beckett, who was looking at him approvingly. He took a deep breath, and continued. "I'm not surprised that so many of you are here. Rue was so full of love and joy, it just sort of spread to everyone around her. You couldn't help but be happy around her--she was just one of those people. I don't think I have ever seen someone embrace life so fully, or just be so full of joy.

"She had this thing where she could read your eyes. Just by looking into your eyes, she could tell what you were thinking and feeling. I quickly learned I couldn't hide anything from her, because she'd just look into my eyes and know exactly what was going on. She often struggled with speech, and I know that it frustrated her because it limited her ability to communicate with others. But she was one of the most intelligent people I've ever met, and she could understand us through our eyes and our body language in a way that showed just how good at communicating she was.

"It always amazed me that no matter what she had gone through in her childhood, no matter what life threw at her, no matter what came her way, she was just so full of love. In our day to day lives, we get caught up in the drama and the petty problems, and we lose sight of what's really important. We often treat one another badly, without the respect and love that the people in our lives deserve. But not Rue. She always treated everyone nicely, and always with such love.

"I will always treasure the time I got to spend with Rue. She was such an amazing person, and I will always regret that my time with her was cut short. But even if I forget everything else she taught me, I will always remember the most important lesson I learned: to love. Love those in your life, and always let them know it. Don't let a day go by where they don't understand how much you care about them and value them.

"Maybe, if I do that, I'll someday be half the wonderful person that my daughter was. Because while no one could ever replace my favorite redhead over there," Castle gestured to Alexis, and Mother pretended to be offended that she was passed over as the favorite. " _One of_  my favorites," Castle amended, winking at her, "I viewed Rue--and loved her--as a daughter. And I will always treasure every moment that I got to spend with her."

Castle's throat threatened to close up and he cleared it in order to keep talking. "When, not if," he said. "That's what she always said. She had such faith and love for us that she never doubted that something would happen. She would talk about  _when_  my next book would be made into a film, or  _when_  Alexis got into the college of her dreams, or  _when_  we cracked a case."

He shot a grin Beckett's way. She gave a cracked smile at the memory.

"Again, her faith and her love were astounding. I can only hope that I was worthy of such an amazing person, worthy of such amazing memories, and worthy of the love she showed. I'll miss you, Rue," he addressed the grave itself now. "And I hope that you viewed me as a father, just as I viewed you as a daughter."

* * *

 

It was her turn now. Beckett hadn't wanted to speak, at first, but she felt a duty to Rue. She'd only wanted Castle to speak--he was the master wordsmith, after all. He was the ink bender, the wielder of the pen. He'd be able to write a properly elegant and heartfelt speech. But she'd felt such a connection to Rue, and been so close to her, that it almost felt like she'd be insulting the girl if she didn't say anything.

Besides, Castle had pestered her so much about speaking that she knew if she didn't accept she'd never get him off her back. Beckett half suspected that he'd manage to pull her into any speech he gave just to get her to say something, anything, and if she was going to say anything, she wanted it to be her words.

Castle finished his speech. It wasn't as eloquent as he usually was. There was no wit or charm present. He was speaking from the heart, and his words were sweet and simple--raw, almost. Beckett hoped she could do the memory of Rue justice the way that Castle had.

As Beckett took his place by the head of the casket, she felt as though someone had sealed her throat shut. When her mother had died, she hadn't given a speech. She'd been in too much shock. There had been a good turnout. Her mother had been a popular woman and quite the crusader for those who couldn't help themselves, and between her many friends and the people she'd helped there'd been a good-sized crowd. Her father had said a few words, as had some colleagues and close friends. But Beckett hadn't said anything. She'd just sat there, tears never ceasing to run down her face--a face that was set like stone.

There was another reason her throat was closing up. While Beckett was nervous about making a funeral speech, it wasn't just because of her mother or the discomfort with the spotlight. The last time she'd been at a funeral, it had been Montgomery's. She had stood in pretty much the same position she was today. The only difference was that it had been sunny, and she'd had a podium. Oh, and she'd been in uniform. Today she wore blue, but it wasn't NYPD--it was a coat she'd picked out while shopping with Rue. Blue was Rue's favorite color.

Castle must have sensed her--discomfort? Déjà vu? Nervousness?--because he squeezed her shoulder comfortingly as she took his place. Beckett noticed that his eyes kept scanning all around them, and realized he was looking for snipers. He wasn't going to let someone hurt her this time.

Glancing down at the crumpled notebook paper on which she'd written her speech, Beckett tried not to look at the somber faces. If she did, she knew she'd come undone.

"I loved Rue."

It was such a short and simple statement to use to convey the depth and breadth of her emotion, but it was the best she could come up with.

"It's not much of a phrase, but it's the best I could find. 'Heart too full' is what she would say when she couldn't find the words to describe her emotion. It usually meant love. The amazing amount of love that she felt was just too great for her to convey--it filled her heart.

"Like my partner here, I viewed Rue as a daughter. She occupies a special place in my heart, and it continuously surprised me how much I cared about her, and how much she touched my life. She opened me up to love and joy, two things I've spent years bottling up.

"While I rarely admit this, my partner Castle has changed my life in many good ways. Don't tell him or I won't be able to live with his ego."

There was some laughter and Castle winked at her, flashing that roguish grin of his that made her legs tremble.

"But while Castle's been changing my life inches at a time, the way people do--the way my friend Lanie has, the way my boys from the precinct have, the way Captain Montgomery did--Rue changed my life suddenly. She brought to the forefront a lot of things and she just spun the kaleidoscope around.

"I'd be lying if I said she didn't change me. She opened me up to love and joy and the simple things that I'd forced myself to forget for years. I'm not the most open person, and while she wasn't a daughter to me the way she was to Castle, she was getting there. I'll admit that. She found a way into my heart and sort of… made a home there. Like one of those cats that just won't leave your house."

A couple people who'd experienced such enterprising felines chuckled. Beckett knew it wasn't the best analogy, but it had fit. And besides, it didn't sound entirely stupid, like the couple dozen other ones she'd tried out.

"She touched me. She opened me up and I won't ever be the same. I know I've basically been repeating myself for the past couple minutes but I just can't emphasis it enough. She was an amazing girl. She was just… so sweet, and loving, and joyful, and I can't find the words--I don't know if I'll ever find them--to express just how much I cared about her and how much she'll be missed.

"I guess the only thing I can say is that my heart is too full, Rue. It's just too full."

Beckett laid a hand on the top of the coffin, and felt the tears prick her eyes again. For a moment, she forgot about her mother, about Montgomery, and about the sniper. For a moment, it was all about right here and now. For a moment, it was just Rue. Rue's body, Rue's spirit, Rue's grave.

* * *

 

It was over.

People were quietly filing away. Alexis and Martha were heading towards the car, arms linked. Lanie gave Beckett a huge hug that squeezed the air from her lungs before heading off to her car. She ignored Esposito's attempt to accompany her. Defeated, he headed off to his own car, while Ryan and Jenny held hands on their way to theirs.

"When we've dealt with whoever ordered the hit on my mother, I'd like to come back here. Say hello to everyone." Beckett snuck a glance at Castle. "Does that sound too morbid?"

"That's what she said."

It was only because Beckett was accustomed to Castle putting her off-balance that she was able to stop her jaw from dropping. Did he just make a lewd comment at Rue's funeral?

"I'm sorry, Castle…  _what_  did you say?" She sputtered.

"That's what she said. Rue, I mean. She always said 'when', not 'if', the way you just did."

Beckett was relieved that Castle hadn't been making blue jokes, but frowned nonetheless. Seeing her confusion, Castle explained.

"You just said 'when' we catch the person. Not 'if'," he explained gently.

Beckett thought a moment. He was right. Maybe Rue had affected her more than she knew.

"That is what she said," she acknowledged.

Castle studied her face. Then he nodded, as if he had found something he was looking for. "You're exhausted," he declared. "Come on back to my place for a drink."

Beckett nodded numbly, too worn out from sleepless nights and crying, not to mention the damn funeral, to think of arguing. "Okay."

She didn't let him put his arm around her, but she did let him guide her with a hand to the small of her back as he walked her to his car.


	13. Baptism by Fire

She couldn't sleep.

She was lying in Rue's bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling Rue's sheets, smelling Rue's smell, and surrounded by Rue's things.

She couldn't sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes she imagined that Rue was right there, sleeping next to her, and all that she had to do was roll over and she'd be able to put her arms around her. Then she'd roll over and feel nothing but cold pillows, and she'd open her eyes and the grief would wash over her anew.

She couldn't sleep.

Every time she inhaled, her nostrils and throat and lungs would be filled with Rue's scent, and she'd feel a stab in her heart as memories filled her brain before she could stop them.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

She crossed the room to the bathroom (Rue's bathroom, her treacherous mind reminded her) and opened the medicine cabinet. She'd placed one or two of her things there for when she spent the night, including the sleeping pills she'd used when she'd been recovering at her father's cabin and unable to sleep because every time she closed her eyes, she'd seen snipers in every dark corner of the room.

Popping a couple pills into her mouth, she downed them and climbed back into bed. In a few minutes, her limbs began to feel heavy. A couple minutes after that, and she was asleep.

* * *

 

_She's standing in an alley, a blind alley, looking down at the woman bleed into the sidewalk._

" _Kate…" the woman whispers, her life leaving her along with the air in her lungs as she speaks the word._

_She's trying to move, she really is, but for some reason her legs are rooted to the spot. She can only stand there, horrified, as she watches her mother die._

" _Mom, Mom, stay with me!" She's screaming, but her mother doesn't seem to hear her. Her eyes are fixed on the concrete ground, the concrete that's slowly being covered by her red blood._

_And Kate is screaming, she's screaming because there's nothing else that she can do._

_Suddenly, a car screeches to a stop in front of the alley. Montgomery gets out and starts yelling at Kate._

" _Go, Kate, run! I can't hold them forever!"_

_And suddenly Kate's legs are moving, running, even though she wants to stay. She runs further into the alley, even though she knows it's a dead end. She hears shots behind her, and knows that Montgomery is dead. Tears are streaming down her face and choked sobs rack her chest as she runs._

_She's almost at the end of the alley, but it isn't a dead end after all. It's a door, it looks like a door into a crate or something but she can't think, she can only move as she runs into it._

_The door slams behind her, and it's only when the lock clicks into place that she realizes she's in a freezer storage crate, and it's cold, so cold…_

" _Beckett."_

_Slowly she turns, and despite the coat and scarf that have suddenly materialized on her body she shivers. Castle is standing there, his breath coming out in tiny clouds of fog, and the look of horror on his face only makes the blood rush through her veins faster._

_They're trapped in here. No one knows they're here._

_They pace for a little while, trying to keep warm by moving, but she knows they can't let sweat develop, and after a while it gets monotonous. Castle suggests they sit together for warmth, and for once she sees no trace of flirtation or joking about him. He's dead serious._

_That means they really must be in danger._

_They sit together, his arm around her shoulder and her head leaning against him, their legs tucked up against their chests. The cold is seeping into her now, she can feel it in her bones and her blood is sluggish as it begins to freeze up. It hurts to move anything--even blinking is difficult. She never knew that lifting up her eyelids could be so much work._

_It's getting harder to avoid the cold. She can feel it claiming her, wrapping its deadly arms around her, and she struggles against it even though she knows it's fruitless._

_But then, a voice cuts through, shouting into her head. It's Rue's voice._

" _Tell… please tell…"_

_She has to tell him. She has to confess before she dies--before he dies. Because she's lost everyone else--her mother, the captain, Rue, previous partners… she can't lose him. She wants to die knowing that he's hers and she's his and he better damn well accept it._

" _Castle…" She can barely get her tongue to move, and the words are forced out of stone lips. She has to tell him. She has to get it out._

" _I just want you to know that I l…"_

_The cold and the darkness swoop in before she can get the next word out. They steal the words, the very thoughts, from her, and even her shivering stops as she feels herself free-falling into the blackness._

_The last thing she hears before everything vanishes is Castle. He's calling out to her, desperately._

" _Stay with me, Kate. Stay with me."_

_It's forced from ice-cold lips but she hears it all the same. And then… then she hears him again. She shouldn't, because everything is black and all of her senses have checked out, but his voice rings through everything, startling her._

_The words are very similar to before but now there's an added element. An extra layer of fear, of caring, of desperation._

" _Stay with me, Kate; stay with me. Stay with me."_

_And he says something he's never said before._

" _I love you."_

* * *

 

Her eyes flew open, her heart beating erratically as it thudded away at an alarming rate. She lay there, frozen, trying to still her breathing.

She quickly took stock of her situation. She was in Rue's room, but she was alone in the bed. It was dark, which Rue would never accept because she always went to sleep with the light on…

The shooting. The funeral. Rue. Rue was dead.

Kate got up. She couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't deal with this alone.

Silently, she padded over to Rick's room. The thought came, unbidden, that while she was indeed quiet she wasn't as completely silent as Rue would have been.

She gently pushed open the door and stood there, in the doorway, suddenly uncertain.

Kate heard him stirring in the bed, and saw through the moonlight that he had sat up.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Now,  _that_  was unexpected. Never had he called her that. She highly doubted he ever would, even if given the choice.

"I had no idea we'd progressed to the point of giving each other pet names," she said dryly.

Rick flicked on the lamp at the nightstand. The sudden brightness made her blink and squint, even though the light wasn't much. His eyes widened when he saw who it was.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I just… I thought… when you weren't sleeping over, Rue would… she would come in here, when she had nightmares."

Kate leaned against the doorway, suddenly aware of the fact that she was wearing only an oversized t-shirt of Rick's that she'd borrowed, being too tall for Alexis' pajamas.

"I'm sorry," she said. She could tell from the hurt puppy look in his eyes that she'd stirred up some painful memories.

"Don't be," he insisted. "At first she seemed scared, or worried that she'd get in trouble for waking me, but it was fun. I'd read from whatever book she was currently reading, and when she fell asleep I'd carry her back to bed."

He smiled a little at the memory. "She was so still and quiet, and since she always climbed into my lap I couldn't see her face, so I couldn't tell if she was asleep or just listening. If I stopped reading and she was awake, she'd poke me in the chest. If I stopped reading and she didn't poke me, I knew she was asleep and I'd return her to her room."

Kate smiled back at him. She could picture the scene in her head: Rue, curled up in Rick's lap while he read out loud to her from his own books. She knew that Rue had been reading Rick's books, and thought it must have been great to hear him read his own work aloud, the way he'd pictured the voices sounding in his head when he'd written them.

Impulsively, she walked over to him and climbed onto the bed, crawling over to him. Rick watched in fascination as she climbed into his lap, draping her arms in a casual loop around his neck and shoulders. She rested her head on his shoulder and gazed up into those intoxicating blue eyes.

"You know…" Rick said, slowly, "She would always come in and say 'I had a nightmare'."

Kate smiled. "Rick, I had a nightmare."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closer. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "What was it about?" He asked.

Kate smiled up at him lazily, but there was a deep sadness lurking in those melted chocolate eyes. "It was about… everything."

Everything seemed dreamlike tonight. All the barriers were down. They were in this strange bubble where they could say or do anything, and nothing in the outside world could either affect them or be affected by them.

Slowly, he brought his hand up and let his fingers lightly stroke her hair, pushing it out of her face. His eyes asked the question, and Kate understood. They were talking with their eyes tonight. Rue would be proud.

"My mother was in it, and the Captain--Montgomery, not Gates--and you," Kate explained. Her words were slow and unhurried. "We were back in the freezer, and I was passing out when I heard Rue's voice… she was asking me to tell…"

She shut her eyes for a moment, as if to banish the images from her mind. "They were all dead, all dying right in front of me and I couldn't do anything, and only you remained." Her voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Only you remained."

His hand cupped her cheek and she closed her eyes again, savoring the feel. "You were calling to me," she whispered.

She opened her eyes, and he felt time stand still. She was going to tell him. She was going to admit it. She was going to say what he had known all along.

"I remember everything, Rick. All of it. I heard what you said to me. In the dream… in the dream you were repeating it."

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even form a coherent thought. He could only wait.

"I heard you say that you loved me."

Kate slowly raised herself up until her lips barely grazed his. She placed the lightest of kisses upon the corner of his mouth. He knew what she was trying to say, what she couldn't yet allow herself to say. He'd let her get away without saying it, for now. Kate Beckett was here, in his arms, kissing him. He could afford to be patient.

"I couldn't tell you," she whispered, and he could hear the pain in her voice. Her fingers danced lightly across his face and neck as she held herself to him, trembling. He held her comfortingly, safely. "I tried to tell you, but it was too cold… I never got to tell you…"

"Then tell me now," he murmured.

She kissed him, her lips crushing his in the intensity, and he kissed her back, sucking on her bottom lip and feeling the little moan-whimper she gave at the sensation.

Suddenly, the sluggish, dreamlike feeling compressed and exploded, and everything was in sharp detail and they were moving so quickly it was almost surreal. They kissed feverishly, their tongues battling in a dance of passion, nipping and nibbling and stealing each other's breath. Kate made that muffled moan, the same one she'd made when they'd had their cover kiss. It gave him pleasure to know that the kiss had been more, just like he'd thought. That moan confirmed it more than words ever could.

Rick flipped her over and pressed her to the mattress, kissing her along her jaw line and down to her neck, where he sucked on her pulse point. His efforts were rewarded by a delicious groan, and she tugged on his earlobe.

"I need you," Kate whispered, and he could hear her voice crack. "I need you, Rick."

He nearly came undone when he heard her say his first name like that, so charged with lust and want. He continued to kiss down her body, nibbling on her collarbone and giving a frustrated grunt when further progress was impeded by the shirt she was wearing.

"You are wearing far too many clothes," he growled.

Kate grinned. She would never tell him, but she liked it when he was aggressive. She'd always hoped he would be that way in bed, and she was not disappointed.

He pulled her shirt over her head with an almost savage energy and she pressed herself against him. He was already bare-chested, so she splayed her hands across his chest. He was certainly fit, and she delighted in feeling the hot skin and how his muscles responded to her touch. She lightly traced her fingers over his chest, circling his nipples and gently scratching his side, grinning when he inhaled sharply.

Taking her hands and holding them tightly in his own large ones, he arrested her exploration. The look in his blue eyes made her shiver and heat shoot down to her core. She froze, waiting, as his gaze traveled down her body, taking in every inch of her.

Rick wanted to soak it all in. He wanted to absorb into his brain how she looked--memorizing every inch of her skin, drinking in the image of her beautiful body.

After a moment, though, impatience overcame him and he pressed his lips to her cool skin. She gasped as he kissed his way from her navel up to her cleavage, where her scar was.

Kate held her breath as he slowly, reverently, kissed her scar. Her breath hitched, at both the physical sensation and the emotion roiling through her. She wanted to tell him to stop, but his thumb began gently stroking the puckered skin.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, gazing at her. There was such an expression of love, of devotion, on his face that Kate could barely breathe. "This," he touched her scar again, "Is beautiful."

He leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "It's beautiful because it's you. It's a part of you. And every part of you is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

It wasn't until she felt the warm liquid running down her face that she realized she was crying. She pulled him in, kissing him, her tongue memorizing the inside of his mouth. His hands were stroking and massaging her breasts, making her gasp and moan.

Rick detached his mouth from hers and began to use that talented tongue of his on her breasts. Tiny lights flashed behind the edges of her vision as he seized one of her nipples in his teeth.

"Oh God…" She moaned.

"God had nothing to do with this."

She grabbed his head and yanked it back up so that they their faces were inches apart. "Do me a favor Castle," she said, all cop for a minute, "And shut up."

"Whatever you say, Detective." He grinned at her.

She would have protested or made some comment, but he was back to sucking on her breasts again and she could not, for the life of her, form a coherent thought. While it was great--okay, more than great, it was the best fucking thing she'd ever experienced--Kate was not one to just sit back and let someone else be in charge.

Snaking her hand down, she ran her hands along the edge of his boxers, smiling when she felt him tense up and suck in a breath. She teased him for a moment before sliding her hand underneath the fabric, taking the length of him in her hand.

"Kate…" He moaned, hungrily planting openmouthed kisses along her shoulder and neck.

"Yes?" She asked innocently, slowly stroking him.

She was teasing him. He was so hard his dick felt like it was made of marble and she was going so… painfully… slowly!

Sensing his distress, Kate began to pick up the pace. He was so busy reveling in the amazing feeling of it that he barely noticed her shifting under him. Then he felt her hot breath on his cock.

Rick nearly choked on his own breath when she kissed the tip, slowly taking him into her mouth. She began to move but he stopped her.

Kate raised questioning eyes up to him.

"Look, Kate, if you do that, I'm not going to last." Just thinking about her doing this was making him ready to blow. "And I want to be inside you when that happens."

He wasn't sure what flashed across her face--amusement? Love?--but she obliged him, repositioning herself so that they were face-to-face again.

She didn't leave him much time to gather his thoughts, but then, she never did. She played with his nipples while she sucked on his pulse point, and it was only when he reached down and found her clit that he was able to gain the upper hand.

Her eyelids fluttered and she arched beneath him as he began to rub her clit, shooting arrows of pleasure through her body. She had never, ever felt as turned on by any man as she had with Castle, so she should have expected this… but the sheer amount of pleasure, his ability to turn her into a shuddering puddle of lust, was still unexpected.

When he inserted two fingers into her, she was pretty sure the world had exploded. He curled them just so, thrusting into her  _that way_ , making her senses go haywire. She writhed uncontrollably, moaning.

"Rick…" she moaned, "Rick, I need you… oh God, I need you now…"

Rick was pretty sure the sight of Kate Beckett writhing underneath him was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. His fantasies about her had always been pretty intense, but nothing could have prepared him for how damn amazing this was.

When she told him she need him,  _now_ , it took every ounce of self-control to one, control his body, and two, not run over to the top of the Empire State Building and pronounce his victory with a megaphone.

He was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate that.

Instead, he chose to oblige her. Snagging a condom from the drawer on the nightstand (cliché, he knew, but it was convenient), he quickly sheathed himself before entering her.

The gasp she gave was music to his ears, and only added to the sensation of her tightness enfolding him. She was so tight, and so warm and wet, and he knew, he just  _knew_ , that she had never been this ready, this hot, for anyone else.

Kate couldn't focus on anything other than him. His rhythm was slow and steady to begin with, and the very feeling of him inside of her, of his largeness filling her so completely, was pushing her towards this feeling of ecstasy that she had never experienced before.

"Rick…" She managed to gasp.

"Hmm… yes?" He murmured, pausing in his administrations to the skin behind her ear.

"Faster…"

"What?" She could feel his grin, damn him.

"Fuck, Rick, faster!" She screamed.

She never screamed. She rarely cursed. She was pretty sure that Rick somehow knew that, because the grin she received as he picked up speed would have earned him a look had he not been making her feel so damn good.

It wasn't long before he was slamming into her, with her ankles hooked around his hips. Hands were skimming over skin, lips and teeth were teasing and exploring, and oh lord, how he managed to hit that sweet spot over and over, dragging her closer to the edge…

"Close… I'm so close…" Kate whispered hoarsely.

Rick could barely breathe. The sensations surrounding him were so amazing – the scent of her, the feel of her – everything was centered on Kate. Only Kate existed; nothing was real except for her. The taste of her sweet body, mingled with the salty taste of her sweat (or maybe his – it was hard to tell at this point), the feel of her silky hair in his hands, the look of it spread across the bed…

He was so close himself, he could hardly stand it. Wanting – no, needing – to take her with him, he managed to reach one hand down and work her clit again. At the same time, he bit down on her shoulder, trying to stifle his immense need.

"Rick! Oh, God… Rick!"

Her scream sent him hurtling over the edge, shouting her name as his mind, his body, his soul, was filled with her and only her.

* * *

 

Kate did not cuddle. She was not the type to snuggle, either before sex, after sex, or really at most times of the day. That said--she wanted to cuddle with Rick. He had just rocked her world with the most mind-blowing orgasm she'd ever had, and now she wanted to  _cuddle?_  But… there was something about him that was different, that made this acceptable.

So, when they'd finally spent the surprising amount of energy they both seemed to possess, she lay on her side and wrapped an arm around his waist, resting her head on his chest. She felt his strong arms wrap around her and his gentle hands brush her hair out of her face. She'd never realized how large his hands were until she'd felt them spanning her back, working her breasts, curling right into that sweet spot of hers…

The very remembrance made her shudder in pleasure.

His fingers were lightly writing on her back, and she smiled. Rick was everything she expected in him as a lover; passionate, fun, and a little rough at times. She'd expected the passion, and welcomed it. She'd hoped for the occasional aggressiveness, and was glad she hadn't been wrong. She'd known that he would bring joy to her bed--he brightened up everything they did together, bringing joy and laughter to almost any situation.

The one thing she hadn't expected was the tenderness; the sheer love and the care that he'd shown during their lovemaking. He didn't allow it to make him be too gentle, thank goodness, but it still shown through. It startled her, but it also… soothed her, in a way. She knew he loved her. Now she'd felt it, radiating from him with every touch, every sound, every movement. It was addictive.

"Kate," she said sleepily, using her finger to trace light circles on his chest.

"What?" Rick asked.

"You're writing 'Kate' on my back."

She lifted her head an inch, just enough to look at his face. He was smiling at her, the perfect mixture of puppy dog happiness and love. "Consider it marking my territory."

"Oh, so this wasn't enough for you?" Kate lifted herself up on her elbow, pointing to the mark he'd made on her shoulder when he bit her.

Rick looked abashed, but pleased. "Sorry about that."

She chuckled. "Don't be. I like it." Gently, she reached down and kissed him. "I like that I'm yours."

He groaned. "Kate Beckett, you will be the death of me."

She grinned. "This isn't such a bad way to go, is it?"

He shook his head and pulled her back down, holding her close against him. "No," he said. "No, it's not. I think I can honestly die a happy man now."

She poked him in the chest. "You'd better not being going anywhere anytime soon, Writer Boy."

"Writer  _Man_ ," he corrected, and she felt his smile. "And I'll be here. Always."

She shivered pleasantly when he said that word. There was approximately two minutes of silence before he spoke again.

"Quite the 'baptism by fire', I'd say."

"What?"

"I'm just saying that, after years of dancing around this, we don't go on a date. We don't give heartfelt speeches."

"I know Lanie was probably ready to stage an intervention."

"The point is we didn't take it slow. We just sort of… crashed together, jumped right into the sack. As a matter of fact, I don't think that we even took the time to say 'I love you' before all of this started."

Kate snuggled a little closer as she felt his hand leave her back and move to play with her hair. She knew that he loved it when she wore it down and silky smooth and she'd noticed when they'd first kissed how his hands had immediately flown to her hair. She smiled.

"Well,  _I_  said it, long before all of this, but  _you_ , my dear detective, did not," Rick finished up.

"You really aren't going to let this go, are you?" She asked. With a sigh, she sat up, and Rick obligingly got into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard.

Kate took a deep breath. It was strange; she'd just slept with the man, had the best sex of her life with him, and, yes, admitted to herself that she loved him. But saying it out loud was still… intimidating.

"I love you, Castle," she said. He started to smile, but she put a finger to his lips. "Uh-uh. No talking. I can't… I'm not good at this sort of thing. Even before my mom, I was never good at saying what I felt. But, but with you, I…"

She took another deep breath, and then steeled herself. But when she looked into those blue eyes… when she saw the love shining there… she found the words tumbling out of her mouth with such ease it was scary.

"I love you, Rick. You're my one and done."

Then he pulled her in for a slow, steamy kiss, and everything melted away until all that was left were the sensations he gave her.

"I love you too, Kate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, this smut isn't too bad for a seventeen-year-old. Compared to the melodrama I cooked up for this story I'd say it's the lesser sin, right? ...right?


	14. Pancakes

Beckett awoke to the smell of batter, syrup and bacon. She sniffed, her nose alert while the rest of her still lurked halfway to dreamland. Slowly, she raised her head, blinking blearily at the sunlight streaming through the window.

Her body kicking into full gear, Beckett sat up, glancing at the clock. It was eight in the morning. Okay, good. Not as early as she usually got up but not too late either. She pulled back the covers and looked around for the large t-shirt and panties that had been hurriedly discarded last night.

It wasn't until she'd found said articles of clothing and put them on that she realized Castle wasn't in bed. The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted into the room again and she smiled. He was making her breakfast.

Scrounging around Castle's bedroom--and taking the opportunity to examine it, deciding that it was tasteful if a bit masculine--she found a dark green bathrobe and put it on. She could imagine what he'd look like wearing that bathrobe. The dark green would contrast his blue eyes wonderfully.

Beckett padded downstairs, grinning at the smorgasbord of breakfast delights that were at the island in the kitchen. Dressed casually in a shirt and jeans (jeans that cupped his assets very nicely, she noted), Castle stood at the stove, flipping some pancakes. His brow was furrowed a little in concentration as he tried to flip them in various fancy ways.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Beckett asked, sitting down and helping herself to a piece of bacon.

"Well, I tend to get hungry after I exercise a lot, and I thought you might feel the same way, so I made us some breakfast," Castle said with a wink. "I heard Mother do the walk of shame around four, so she won't be up before noon. Alexis tore out of here at hour ago to spend some time alone at the park, so we shouldn't be disturbed."

"Why the park?" Beckett asked.

"The local park was a favorite spot for her and Rue, next to museums."

Beckett nodded, slowly, the now-familiar pang of sadness hitting her at the mention of Rue.

Castle placed a plate heaped with pancakes in front of her, as well as a bottle of heated maple syrup and a small bowl of powdered sugar. Beckett began to pour syrup on her pancakes, watching the golden liquid spread over and puddle on the plate.

She couldn't help but grin to herself. The first move was always hers to make, and Castle had waited patiently for her for four years. Now that she'd made that move, he was jumping right in with both feet.

"You know, Rue loved pancakes," Castle remarked. "She was always trying to get me to make them."

Beckett tried to hide her smile. "Did you tell her about the time I made them?"

"But of course. I think that's part of why she loved them." Castle flashed that cocky smile at her.

Helping herself to a fork, Beckett dug into the sinfully delicious pile of food on her plate. Castle got himself a plate and sat next to her, and soon they were talking. They talked about everything--Rue, Josh, Montgomery, Esposito and Lanie, Alexis, his mother's school, his books--everything they'd ever wanted to say, ever wanted to discuss, but never had, they brought out into the light. It felt strange, but right, sitting there basking in the glow of "morning after" as well as the rising sun.

It wasn't until after the dishes were cleaned, dried and put away and the kitchen cleaned that Castle realized what she was wearing.

"Is that my bathrobe, Detective?" He asked.

"How observant, Writer Boy," Beckett said dryly. "It only took you over two hours to realize it."

"You do know that I can't allow you to go traipsing around in my very soft, very expensive bathrobe."

Beckett grinned devilishly. "I thought men liked it when their girlfriends wore their clothing?"

"I prefer you without any clothing," he growled, "But yes, that is true; my bathrobe being the exception."

"Well then," she said, her voice lowering to a husky whisper. She knew her voice always turned him on, and when she actually made an effort to sexualize it she knew it drove him wild. "If you dislike me wearing it so much, why don't you take if off me?"

Castle's eyes darkened, his pupils widening until only a thin ring of blazing blue fire could be seen. Without a word, he pulled her to him and kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he simultaneously undid the tie on the bathrobe and worked it off of her. He immediately broke off the kiss as his hands felt her bare skin.

"You're…" It appeared that, for once, words were failing him. Beckett loved it on the rare occasions when she could render him speechless. He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "We just wasted two hours eating while you were sitting next to me wearing  _nothing_  underneath that robe?"

"Why Castle…" Beckett purred, loving how he swallowed and his pants tightened. "You're the one who didn't notice what I was wearing."

Beckett was almost certain she was going to have bruises and sores later on, but it was so worth it. The only problem was that she would never view Castle's kitchen counter the same way again… and heaven help her if Alexis decided to make a sandwich on it.


	15. On the Down Low

It really is amazing what social creatures humans are. They way that people spread and share information is astounding. With that in mind, there is no surer way to spread information than to tell someone to "keep this on the down-low" or something of a similar nature.

The fact was that keeping their relationship a secret was doomed from the start. Castle knew they should have been prepared for it--after all, everyone in the precinct and their mother had known about Lanie and Esposito while the couple themselves had thought they'd done a pretty good job of covering it up. Especially because, unlike Lanie and Esposito, everyone was interested in Castle and Beckett's relationship to the point of making bets on it.

Still, a guy can hope, can't he?

He knew that Lanie knew. Girls have that instinct for things, especially concerning other women and romance, and if Beckett didn't go right out and tell the M.E. she'd have wormed it out of her anyway. The doctor should have been a detective for how well she could grill someone.

"She won't say anything, will she?"

They were staring at the murder board, the precinct mercifully empty. Beckett didn't say anything for a moment, her brain switching gears as she moved from thinking about their case to what Castle had said.

"No, Castle, I don't think she will. Lanie knows how to keep a secret."

"I understand why you had to tell her, but…"

"She's my best friend, Castle. And she would have figured it out even if I hadn't said anything, so it was better that I just came out and told her."

There was a pause, and then Beckett spoke again, a smile in her voice if not on her face. "By the way, Castle--when are you planning on telling Alexis? Or am I going to have to do that, too?"

Castle groaned.

* * *

 

Alexis was sitting on the couch, various books spread before her on the coffee table while she scribbled away furiously in a notebook.

"Catching up on homework?" Castle asked, trying to peer over her shoulder with minimal success.

"Extra credit. I've been picking up volunteer hours as well. Hopefully it will improve my chances for when I re-apply to Stanford," Alexis answered. While her father had convinced her to apply to Ivy League colleges and other prestigious universities, Stanford was still her main goal.

"What are you writing right now?" Castle inquired, as his latest attempt to read what she was writing resulted in her covering the paper with her hand.

Alexis paused, thinking before she answered. "It's a dissertation on working with linguistically challenged individuals. I already wrote a paper on the value of tutoring."

She didn't give Castle a chance to dissect her purposefully confusing verbiage. "I'm writing about Rue."

Castle noted the various torn up and crumbled pieces of paper littering the sofa, coffee table and floor. They were reminiscent of various wadded-up pieces of tissue paper from a sick girl not too many months ago.

Alexis saw what he was looking at. "I want to do her justice, Dad. I admit that I am using this for extra credit, but this isn't just a project for me. I want people to know how much she meant to me."

Castle came around the couch and put his arms around her, letting her head sink into his chest. "I know," he said. "And they will."

His daughter snuggled closer to him, and he could feel her smile. There wouldn't really be any better time to tell her than this.

"Alexis… you know that you are a constant in my life, right? That nothing's going to change us."

His daughter looked up at him, her brow furrowing ever so slightly and her eyes narrowing--her trademark perplexed/thinking face. "Dad, I've faced a crazy mom, Gina, Grandma, various girlfriends, your escapades, a bomb scare, the cases, Beckett getting shot, Rue… I think I should know by now that we're solid."

Castle smiled affectionately at her. She never ceased to amaze him. "Good." He cleared his throat, unsure of how to continue. He'd kind of assumed that most of the conversation would be spent reassuring her. Instead, they were heading right for the main event.

"Uh… Alexis… you… you wouldn't mind if, uh, Kate joined us for our next Laser Tag tournament, would you?" He asked. "Or, maybe, if she became a regular at those things?"

Alexis' face became rather blank, and Castle internally panicked.

"I don't know, Dad…"

Of all the nightmares he'd had, why did this one have to be the one that came true? He'd rather have the one involving bad tequila and King Kong come to life.

"…you know she's going to wipe the floor with our butts before handing them back to us," Alexis finished. Her smile, the one he'd always thought brighter than the sun, broke out over her face, her eyes crinkling up in that way that he loved.

Castle hugged Alexis so fiercely he could hear her muffled protests. "Thanks," he said, as Alexis got her breath back.

"She's the one for you, Dad," she said. "Did you know when she asked me to call her Kate, she didn't add anything about you two in there. All the others, it was always 'and I'd like to be your friend', or 'your father is very special to me'." Alexis made a gagging noise. "But not her. She's had my vote for a while now."

When he hugged her again, Alexis claimed she was pretty sure she felt a couple of ribs crack.

* * *

 

At first, Beckett didn't notice anything. Everything seemed normal at the precinct. There were plenty of cases in various stages of development being dealt with, Gates was being her iron-fisted self, and the cappuccino machine that Castle had brought in was serving their needs as best it could.

Then, she began to notice something. She initially banished it from her mind as heightened nerves with a dash of paranoia. After all, she was finding it extremely difficult to keep herself--and her hands--off of Castle. It was like, after all these years of being denied, her body was trying to make up for lost time. The man was practically a drug.

Like when he was swiveling around in his chair, spouting out theories and tossing around ideas like tennis balls with Ryan and Esposito, and all Beckett could do was muster every ounce of her considerable willpower in order to stop herself from climbing into his lap and riding him right there.

Or when they were walking past a storage closet on their way past the elevator and she had the sudden, extremely strong urge to tug Castle inside and have at it.

Yup, he was right up there with crack and heroin when it came to dangerous addictions.

But once she'd noticed (and managed to convince herself that she was not paranoid, and her hormones were not actually driving her insane), she realized that the jig was up.

It wasn't anything much. Just looks from others at the precinct, or a joke that ended with a significant look her way. But it was when she saw Ryan handing Esposito a fifty dollar bill with a defeated air that she finally snapped.

She marched down to Lanie's examination room and burst through the doors, not waiting to see if the M.E. was busy or not.

"Lanie Parish, just what about the words 'keep this on the down-low' do you not understand?" Beckett demanded.

Lanie swallowed hard. If looks could kill, she'd be a tiny pile of ashes from the flaming daggers her best friend was shooting her. She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off.

"Or maybe it was 'promise to keep this quiet' you didn't understand. Or perhaps it was 'I don't want this getting out'?" Beckett asked, her voice cracking just a tad as it betrayed the panic she was feeling.

"Honey, I swear, I didn't mean to say anything," Lanie defended calmly. "I was with Esposito and it just slipped out. You know how I get during post-sex, I'll say anything."

This was true. Saying that Lanie tended to "babble" post-sex would be putting it lightly. Beckett remembered the time they'd gone out barhopping together and Lanie had gone home with a guy she'd met there, only to call Beckett the next afternoon and bashfully explain that she'd told the man not only her entire life story, but her ice cream fetish.

Wait--did her friend just say 'Esposito'?

"Lanie… did you get back with…?" Beckett let her voice trail off significantly.

Her friend blushed slightly. "Let's just say that we've managed to work out our differences."

"Oh no, you don't. You asked me to spill, so I spilled. Every last detail. Now it's your turn--what happened?"

Seeing that she had no choice (and that it was probably fair given how Beckett's relationship was now out in the open because of her), Lanie told Beckett everything.

* * *

 

"Castle, he just recovered from those broken ribs."

"They heal quickly."

"I will not have fighting in this precinct. If Gates sees you, she'll toss you out on your ass and then where will I be?"

"Unable to snag a quickie in the stairway?"

He could tell she was fighting a smile by the way she bit her lip. He grinned. "Don't worry--as much as I think he deserves it for that comment, I will let it slide. But only because he just got out of the hospital for taking a hit from that perp."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "Such patience and mercy, Castle."

His grin did not diminish. For all his bluster, he was kind of glad they were out in the open now--snide comments from Ryan (and Esposito) included. Although, they were all keeping it from Gates; the woman hardly needed another excuse to try and get Castle kicked out.

"I guess keeping it 'on the down-low' didn't work, huh?" He asked, stealthily reaching his hand around to try and place it on top of hers.

Beckett moved her hand out of the way, making it look casual but sending him a smirk that showed she knew exactly what she was doing.

What the hell. Might as well try his luck.

"So… does that mean I can kiss you at work now?" He asked.

Beckett turned, positioning herself so that her hands were planted on the desk on either side of his body. Her body, her mouth, was tantalizingly close.

She leaned forward, just enough so that when she spoke, her breath tickled his ear.

"I kind of like the anticipation of making you wait all day."

With a sultry grin, she sauntered off towards the murder board.

That damn woman was going to be the death of him.


	16. Scars

In one of life's many strange twists, it is the scars that cannot be seen that stay with us the longest.

Beckett's bullet wound had healed up within about a month, but the emotional scars had taken forever to heal. In a way, they were still there. Faint, but still there.

Castle had never really thought of himself as having scars. Oh, sure, he had a few from various accidents over the years, like the time he'd been carrying ten wine glasses at once and slipped on the newly waxed kitchen floor his daughter neglected to inform him about. But the kind of scars that Beckett carried… he'd never really thought he'd had those.

That is, until she'd been shot.

And he hadn't seen her for three months.

And been forced to watch her fall apart, pretending everything was fine when really, she was shattered. What was more, she refused to admit it or allow him to help pick up the pieces.

He'd watched her slip away from him while he could do nothing but scream.

It had taken him a while to heal. Not as long as it had Beckett, but he'd had his own sorting out to do. It hadn't helped that he'd had no word from her for months, and that when she'd finally returned she'd denied remembering anything. That lie might have worked on everyone else, even Lanie and her dad, but not Castle. He'd known that was bullshit. But he'd been patient, and his patience had finally been rewarded.

Another problem with scars that you can't see is that you can't be entirely sure they've healed. You can think that you're fine, and then something happens and you feel that twinge again…

Castle had thought he was fine. But then, he'd held Rue in his arms and watched another person he loved slip away from him, watched the blood blossom on another dear one's chest. As he'd lain in bed, that night and every other night, he'd tried and failed to expel from his mind the image of those he loved lying dead in his arms.

When Beckett had come in, and they'd made love, it had done a lot of healing. But he'd still had a way to go. But now… now he felt that he finally could lay things to rest. He could finally look back on his time with Rue with joy and not pain.

That was why he was here, now, for the first time since the funeral. Alexis came every couple of weeks, but she wasn't there today. Neither was Mother, although the elaborate bouquet from her last visit still held a few blossoms. It was just him, and Beckett--or rather, Kate.

They still called each other "Beckett" and "Castle" most of the time; and always at the precinct. Even, on occasion, in bed. But they called each other by their first names more often. And every time they did, he felt his heart tug in a good way.

She'd started calling him that more often now that her mother's murder was behind bars, buried along with her past.

It was another reason why they were here.

* * *

 

Beckett crouched down, lightly running her fingers over the cold, smooth tombstone. "We did it, Rue," she whispered. "We got him."

A light wind stirred, rustling her hair and making the flowers in her hand sway gently for a moment. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of the cool air against her skin. The scar that was her mother's death had been there for years, but now it felt like it was fading. She wished she could say that it was all because Senator Scumbag (actually a New York Senator, but Beckett preferred the nickname that Castle had coined) was locked up and the key thrown away, but it wasn't. Others had played a huge part. Not the least the girl who now lay beneath her.

"You were right," she said, stroking the tombstone gently with two fingers. "We did it. It's all over now."

She smiled, remembering something. "Castle told me about your contribution to the case. He always said you were better at reading then speaking."

Beckett paused, unsure what to say next. Finally, she gave the headstone a light kiss. "I was wrong--you weren't almost my daughter. You were." She thought for a moment before adding, "He thinks I don't know what he's up to. I swear that man couldn't keep a secret if he tried." She smiled again. "Unlike a certain girl I know. She was rather good at faking the flu…"

She could almost picture Rue's screwed up mouth and crinkled nose as she realized that Beckett had known she'd faked being sick. Beckett found herself doing that lately as she began to realize that she could remember Rue with happiness and not pain. Like how her memories of her mother had become more about the time she'd spent with her while alive, rather than the memory of her death alone.

"I love you, Rue," she finished. "Heart too full."

She placed the flowers on the grave and stood, moving over towards where Castle stood a few respectful feet away--just out of earshot. They'd agreed that while they wanted to come here together, they each had things they wanted to say alone. While that made sense for Montgomery and Rue, what Castle wanted to say alone to her mother she had no idea.

Well, she did have an idea. But she wasn't going to say anything just yet.

"You finished?" He asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

She nodded. "Your turn."

He gazed at her for a moment, his eyes quietly intense in that way she loved. He kissed her softly before heading over to have his time. Beckett turned away, gazing out over the grassy hill.

It had taken a long while. Perhaps too long. But now, her scars were finally healing.

Castle bent down and placed his flowers next to Beckett's. He smiled at Rue's tombstone, and then glanced over to make sure that Beckett was turned away.

"We kind of already said all that we needed to say a while ago, sweetheart," he said. "So I just wanted to show you that I kept my promise." His grin widened. "I told her."

He glanced again at Beckett, and then dug in his pocket before producing a small velvet box. "I took your advice," he assured Rue, lifting the lid and showing her its contents. He could picture the expression of joy on Rue's face as surely as if she'd been sitting in front of him. "I have a romantic dinner back at the loft planned and everything. I even got Alexis and Mother out of the way."

The ring was silver, with one diamond. The gem was just large enough to suggest the immense value, but it was plainly set and not gaudy. No other jewels accompanied it. He knew that Rue would like the shiny, sparkly part (the day she'd discovered aluminum foil had been quite an event) but he also knew that it would be what was inscribed on the inner band that she would care about.

In tiny, flowing script was inscribed the word "always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, children, is the end of Mads' first fanfic. Good Lord. I hope that you all enjoyed it despite the quick POV shifts and that awful plot twist. Feel free to leave comments or find me on fanfiction.net under the same name.


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